Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The predicament Crowley found himself in was indeed a bit fickle.

Who would have guessed that one slip in judgment would have these exact results. And it had indeed just been the one time. One time too many he had given in to that side of himself. It had been a memorable one time and in the secrecy of his own office he occasionally liked to think back on it, but if he would have known, he would have insisted on a condom.

Then again who would have guessed that an angel and a demon could breed?

Not him, that was for sure!

After all he was a fallen, damned beyond redemption. Not exactly what you would associate with being conductive to life. And yet here he was, six months in and with whatever grew below his blackened heart as lively as could be.

He hadn’t even noticed till a few weeks ago. Sure there had been signs, the nausea for one and the cravings for an other, not to speak of his sudden lose of appetite for alcohol, or the weird fit of the few shirts he had bothered actually buying, but he had chalked all that up to being around the angel too much. However as his corporation had resisted his will, he had taken a long look inside and reacted appropriately to seeing a second life force grow inside his own.

That is to say, his first instinct had been to hide inside his office for a week and panic. He couldn’t run from this one. He thought about it. Get rid of the problem and never speak of it ever again. But ultimately he couldn’t bring himself to go through with it. Something in him being surprisingly excited about this revelation. One should think years of more or less involuntarily getting to know thousands of children would beat that out of someone but apparently Crowley hadn’t learned a thing.

Then there was still the issue of Aziraphale. After all he wasn’t quite innocent in the creation of this. But that was a problem for future Crowley. At the moment he wasn’t quite ready to admit the truth yet. Or maybe he would never. Pop out the bastard in secret and pretend it were an other antichrist. The angel would probably be more than happy to help raising the spawn if only to exercise his good influence out of holy obligation. No need to tell him the charge was in actuality his.

 Or maybe he could just ditch the angel completely for the time it took to raise the kid. Would take a bit of explaining away his absence for their weekly droughts matches, but he was sure Aziraphale wouldn’t mind. He was trusting in that way. And the less chances he had to find out the better. It might only give him funny ideas about them anyway. Ideas Crowley wasn’t quite ready to admit to, despite wanting the same deep down.

And that was the whole problem, wasn’t it? He was alone in this by his own doing. Vanity or fear, he didn’t quite know, keeping him from simply telling. The possibility that other’s would want to take this from him or even just think less of him because of it, was too great. He didn’t dare risk it. And then there was his image, the ruthless big boss, temptation and evil and all that, bred by Mister Apologizes-if-you-step-on-his-toes. He didn’t even dare think of what could happen if that came out. Probably some low level imp trying their luck at kicking the traitor, now that he had also debased himself like that.

No, telling anyone wasn’t an option. He would have to get through this on his own. There was simply no trusting others with this. For his spawn’s safety and his own.

But as it turned out he wouldn’t have to tell anybody about his predicament to begin with.

“Eh boss?”, Tina approached him during closing.

“WHAT?” , Crowley was already agitated, he had done too much running around that day already. His back hurt, his feet hurt , and the little shit inside him had decided that today was a good day for kickboxing. All he wanted was a hot bath, maybe even a tub of ice cream. Satan, was he craving something sweet. Must be the angel’s influences.

The taller man stood his ground. Already used to his boss’s moods. “Some of the gals and I have noticed a few changes and, erm, we are concerned?”, he stated carefully not quite managing to keep out the worry lacing his scruff voice.

Crowley’s Nostrils flared in frustration as he huffed .“Non of your business!”. The last thing he needed right now was his barkeep getting nosey.

“Is just, most of us don’t know what we’d do if this place was to fall off, not to mention that we really don’t want to see you, you know, get worse”

“ ‘M not getting worse!”

“Marjorie said she saw you throwing up a few times. You haven’t touched your whiskey in months and you haven’t gotten around planning the remodelling. Is just not like you I am saying!”

Fuck! Crowley had done his best to keep up with things. It was all just a bit much. The sickness had gotten better the last few weeks but certain smells just didn’t sit right with him and he had always been a bit sensitive in that department. Probably a snake thing. He had been sure nobody had ever been around when it had gotten to that point. Squaring his jaw he glared at the barkeep. “Tina, you know I like you, this is non of your bloody business and it would really be a shame if I’d have to let you go!”

“I just want you to know we got your back, what ever it is, Boss”. Working for Crowley for way over a decade seemed to have made the man immune to Crowley’s intimidations. At least he spoke undeterred .“No shame if you need a little help”

“I don’t need any pity from you or any other and now piss off!”, Crowley snarled and absentmindedly began rubbing his belly. Finding a bit of comfort in feeling the curve beneath all the layers he had to wear to hide it these days.

Only as he noticed Tina staring at his abdomen, he realized his mistake and bared inhumanly sharp teeth at his employee. Who in turn blinked at the slightly noticeable bump to then look at his face with a strange sort of expression. Something fighting between scepticism and relieve.

“Oh, you’re-” , Tina breathed softly and made a gesture to indicate a baby bump.

“Yhea, keep it down will ya!”, Crowley blushed angrily. Already bracing himself for the worst. No matter if it would include wiping Tina’s memory or even murder. Of course he would prefer to not have to kill this man but if that was what it took to keep his secret -

He wasn’t prepared for the other to just smile at him with genuine glee. “Sure thing, Boss!” There was a little twinkle to the barkeep’s eyes. Nothing mischievous but instead something warm and caring. “But won’t be able to keep the other’s from asking for long”

Crowley stared at him a bit. His heart still racing with the anticipation of catastrophe. Finally he dismissed him with a wave. Maybe this wasn’t quite as bad as he expected and he could deal with the others when he got there. “Just see to it that you don’t let it slip “, he still hissed not without an underlying threat to his tone. Still, he would have to have an eye on Tina, but for now he didn’t seem to be a threat.

“Sure will do”, Tina hummed happily and hesitating for a short moment added: “And offer still stands, if you need help with anything just say it”.

“Yhea, Yhea, get lost already!“, Crowley growled back, turning on his heel to hurry the direction of his office.

His mind was already whirling again. The humans might not be a danger at the moment, but being found out so easily worried him. He would need to set up a different hideout. Something fortified, where his spawn and him could be save and hidden from all prying eyes. He could sign over the hellfire for the time being. No problem there. Rake in the profits and let someone else run it. What troubled him more, was he would need to find a solution for Aziraphale quicker than he would have liked.

He would just have to hope the angel wouldn’t come find him. He did have a tendency doing that. Always too caring that one. Maybe he could find a way to cover his trail. He could do this, he had to do this.

He would just have to hope Aziraphale kept up his habit of not hating him, no matter what he did.

Chapter Text

It had been a few days since Tina more or less accidentally had uncovered the secret.

He had done his best to show support to his boss but had ultimately given up on the grounds that Mister Crowley seemed to become even more irate than usual at the slightest hint to his circumstances. He couldn’t even blame the poor sod. Mister Crowley might be known as nonchalant arsehole with a superiority complex, but working for him for just a short time, most quickly notice the underlying paranoia he seemed to harbour. Trying to hide a whole damned pregnancy was probably not quite as beneficial for one’s nerves in that case.

Tina just wished the big boss would at least accept a little help, instead of shutting himself in that windowless cubbyhole of an office of his. And if it were just an additional cushion for his usual spot. Just something, anything to help put both their minds at ease. Instead, Tina had felt like he was walking on glass for the last few days. Always needing to look over his shoulder for when the boss had been around, glowering at him from out of the shadows to make sure he kept his mouth shut. Which was ridiculous, he was a barkeeper, for someone’s sake. One of the few professions know for listening rather than blabbering. But the whole situation made him uneasy and weighed on him in a way he wished he could just let out. It made him not want to come in to work and he didn’t like that. The Hellfire had been his second home for clise to over two decade now and suddenly he no longer felt welcome.

“You’ve been brooding”, Marjorie stated matter-of-factly, swirling the rest of her drink around. “Is the boss’s job, brooding. Doesn’t suit you”

Tina just hummed in noncommittal agreement and continued cleaning the bar top. They were alone in the club, not even Crowley was in (Tina was thankful for that actually). The two of them always being the first to come in to prepare for opening.

Delicately styled brows shot up. “Common big guy, I know something’s up! First the bossman, now you? What’s with you people being broody all day? Is the club closing down? Is Mister Crowley kicking the bucket? Common now, spill it!”

“Nothing of the sort”

“Well then spill it anyway!”, she dramatically pouted. Despite quite rapidly approaching her fifties she had never lost her more energetic charm. “Can’t stand both of my favourite laconic bastards being down in the dumps and all that”

Tina huffed. Well, he needed to talk to someone about it eventually. And Marjorie, the heart of the hellfire for just as long as he had been working here was as good as any. He took a breath, letting it out as a resigned sigh and took a surreptitious look around. Might as well make sure Mister Crowley wasn’t about to materialize in the shadows, somehow you never knew with that guy. Something about him just screamed ‘lurking in the dark’.

“You gotta promise not tell anyone!” , Tina hissed quietly. “Not Lisa, not Charlotte, Not anyone capiche?”

Marjorie nodded enthusiastically. “quite as a grave, me!”

“boss been knocked up!”

He watched as Marjorie’s face cycled through multitude of emotions. From disbelief to confusion to, finally, something akin to confused scepticism.

“You kidding! Like, with child knocked up or –” , she blinked at him, frowning.

“Yhea, got a bun in the oven our bossman”

“We talking a kid, right? Not some alien—“

“He’s carrying a litter of puppies”, Tina rolled his eyes. “ ‘Course with a kid, what else would he be carrying?”

“ Scuse me for asking. Suppose I just didn’t expect him to be—“, she gave her drink an other swirl, drawing her lips tight before letting out a sigh and deadpanning, “Never took our boss for a bottom, I suppose “

Now it was on Tina to blink at the other in disbelief. Once. Twice. Finally he let out a dry snort. “I tell you the big boss is preggers and you got nothing other on your mind than logistics?”

“Don’t blame me! Is just— look the guy wears bloody sunglasses at night for Pete’s sake, that’s not a man who goes around letting himself be buggered. Too much up his own arse for that, you know”

“Suppose so”, Tina shrugged. This was not the way he had thought this conversation might go, but he welcomed the more light-hearted tone despite the massive digression into their boss’s personal life. “Must have happened somehow though, or else, you know—”

“You think he scowled the whole way through?” Marjorie put on a pretty decent Crowley impression, doing her best to keep up the scowl. The corners of her mouth constantly threatening to turn up into a grin. “ ‘Yes, please, more, but don’t you ever believe I am enjoying even just one second of this’ “. She fake moaned and let out a small laugh. “Bet he is a vocal one.”

“Marjorie!” Scandalized, he swiped at her with his rag yet smiled a little himself. This was ridiculous, non of their business, but also absolutely hilarious.

“Is true, it’s always the dark gloomy ones, I swear”, Marjorie giggled. “So who do you think it’s from? boss might jump his own bones if he got the chance, but I don’t think we got cloning just yet”

“I dunno” , Tina shrugged. Their boss wasn’t exactly a socialite. Sure, he was well enough liked in his corner of town, but he usually kept people at a distance. Only ever interacting on a surface level and nothing more. Mister Crowley knew many, that was his thing. But nobody really knew Mister Crowley.

Marjorie frowned and thought for a long moment. “Only one I can come up with is that academic type”, she finally said.

“The one with the white hair an’ old-fashioned clothes?”

“Yhea, exactly that one. A bit prudish and posh. Stumbled into the changing room a few years back, asked for the boss and apologized for barging in the whole way out. Had a pretty blush, though.”

“boss knows how to pick ‘em.”, Tina huffed sarcastically “You really think that’s the one? Dunno doesn’t seem the boss’s typ“

“Why not? Those academic types are always a bit freaky behind closed doors. And freaky seems right up our boss’s alley”, she shrugged taking a sip of her drink before grinning. “Bet when alone he is all ‘Get on your knees’”

“You’re ridiculous” . Tina had to shake the mental image out of his head.

“Just imagine: After hours, our boss doing the taxes or whatever right here at the bar. Mister Posh comes in, being apologetic and all that, while the boss snarks at him for being late. But then, he just puts his hand in the boss’s hair and all of the sudden, BOOM, boss is like a little lamb for that guy. Probably let’s himself be taken right on the bar”, she giggled.

“I won’t even dignify thinking about my bar being defiled like that”, Tina put on his own best mock scowl.

“Oh, common, big guy, is just a bit of fun, we’re all adults here.”, with a mischievous little smirk Marjorie winked at him.

Despite himself Tina huffed a laugh. It was all a bit ridiculous wasn’t it. And yet— after a long moment, he let out a heavy sigh. “boss’s real scared, though,” he muttered under his breath.

Marjorie stopped giggling and frowned. “Pardon?”

“boss’s scared. Real paranoid”, Tina let his shoulders slump. “More than usual that is. Seems to be worried about the whole thing.”

“I mean we all noticed that he’d been a bit more moody lately. Real quick to jump into a ‘i rip your head off, if you’re not careful’ mode”

“Yhea, would probably kill me if he knew I told you”. He continued polishing the bar top in frustration. “Idiot thinks we will judge him or somethin’ . Behaves like a caged animal since I know! Like I got his mum hostage! I just don’t get it, the Hellfire is like family but he— he doesn’t see that. Non of us would ever even think about losing one bad word about the boss. Heck some would kill for ‘im. But no, the boss wants to stay miserable.“

“Is not our place, you know”, said Marjorie softly. “If the bossman doesn’t want our help, it’s not our place to force it. Yhea, it sucks big time. But the man has always been aggressively private. A real kook in that regard our Mister C.”, she shook her head in fond disapproval. “All we can do is do our job and try and be subtle about making things easier for him. Maybe bring in a few more treats for the whole crew, to get ‘im to eat. Ya know, helping without making it seem like we do. Like when you have to give a dog medicine but have to hide the pill in a nice piece of bologna”

Tina nodded and let out a little huff. He knew what Marjorie said was true. They couldn’t exactly force Crowley to do anything. All they could do was try make everything easier and hope Mister Crowley wasn’t about to take the whole ship down with him. They would willingly go sink with him anyway, but still.

After a while Marjorie broke the silence again. “Soooo, you think the bebe’s gonna pop out with a pair of shades glued to it’s face?”

“Marjorie!”, Tina snorted scandalized but chuckled non the less.

Chapter Text

Crowley was rushing through the corridors of the nightclub’s backend. Long and winding, they seemed to have considered against him. Too many corners, too many doors. Behind all of them eyes and contemptuous murmuring. They knew, they all knew, and they were plotting.

He looked down on himself. His skin taut against the obscene swell of his belly.

“Nonononono,” He muttered franticly, cradling the weight of it. “I need more time, you can’t just—“. But the curve only grew, slowing him down, forcing him to waddle. The being within him growing more restless each second. Its movement underneath his skin throwing him even more off balance.

The shadows on the wall seemed to point at him. The murmurs only growing louder, more vicious. Swelling to a aggressive screeching, making the already narrow space even harder for him to move through. Finally he spotted the stairs down to his office. He didn’t care that it was a dead end. In this moment it seemed to be the only place promising at least a bit of safety.

He stumbled down the steps, heavily leaning on the ever shifting wall as to not fall. The stairs seeming to stretch impossibly far down. It felt like he would fall down at any moment. Tripping over the uneven steps, his legs no longer able to carry him properly.

Finally, finally he reached the door. Scrambling to get through, slamming it behind him. Ragged breath, he leaned against it, still hearing the all present cacophony through the metal. His arms automatically found their way around his middle. It kicked and scratched from the inside,restlessly as if it were trying to claw it’s way outside.

“Shhhhh we are safe now“, he mumbled more to himself than to the riving mass that was his abdomen. Words somehow foreign to his tongue but he felt if he just said them enough, they could become true. He lovingly laid his hand on the moving skin, feeling the life beneath it thrash against it’s confines. It grounded him somehow. Alone with the world shut out he might be able to do this.

“CRAWLER!“

Suddenly, the air grew cold. The swell of belly shrank away from his hand.

“YOU ARE SUCH A DISAPPOINTMENT CRAWLER.“

Shaking, his turned towards the voice suddenly echoing through the air. And there, in the middle, unnaturally tall, stud Satan, dangerously handsome, with a cold smile plastered on his sharp features. Perfect and dangerous in all aspects.

Crowley whimpered.

“HAVE YOU REALLY THOUGHT, JUST BECAUSE I LET YOU GO, THAT YOU WERE FREE?“ he seemed to come closer without ever moving. His impressive figure looming over Crowley.

“DON’T JUST GROVEL!“

Ghostly hands wrapped around him from behind. Hoisting him upright only to firmly press him against the wall at his back.

“I quit!“ His voice was unsteady, barely there.“ You have no dominion over me anymore“

Satan just chuckled.

One of his hands landed on Crowley’s midsection. Fingers splaying possessively against suddenly exposed skin, putting uncomfortable pressure there.

“YOU ARE STILL MINE, LITTLE SNAKE. I JUST LOOSEND YOU LEASH A BIT“

Perfectly manicure nails dug painfully into his skin.

“AND ALL YOU DID WITH THAT WAS LETTING A PATHETIC LITTLE ANGEL INBETWEEN YOUR THIGHS“

“It was a mistake, my Lord, I didn’t mean—“ Crowley hated how easy it came to him. How natural it just felt to submit. Bootlicking always seemingly being a second nature for him.

„TO LOVE?“ Satan interrupted him, doubling down on the pressure on his belly „DEMONS CAN’T LOVE, NEED I REMIND YOU? YOU WERE JUST USING HIM, WEREN’T YOU? YOU DON’T CARE FOR THAT INSIGNIFICANT FOOL. ALL YOU WANTED WAS THIS!“

Satan’s claw dug deep within him, painfully clamping around his womb.

“Nonononon, It was an accident, Lord, I didn’t even know I could—!“ Crowley whined, the hands holding his body down keeping him from curling up in pain. “Don’t hurt it, I beg of you! Don’t—“ He cried out in a panic.

And suddenly, Satan stepped away from him. His usual business smile curling around his lips.

“VERY WELL!“ he said mildly, but there was an underlying sharpness to his words. “YOU STILL OWE ME A SON I CAN BE PROUD OF. IF THIS BROOD IS SO IMPORTANT TO YOU“.

Suddenly, they weren’t in Crowley’s office anymore. But back at the pier in Tadfield. Just an even more grotesque version of it, fire already leaping at the wood and the surreal carnival decorations.

Crowley was being dragged into the floor, held down and forced to look up at Satan.

His hands firmly around Aziraphale’s neck, holding up the angel as if he were just a toy.

„I AM GOING TO MAKE SURE THAT YOUR NEXT SPAWN IS COMING FROM MY SEED!“

With a disinterested flick of his wrist he threw the angel to the ground, where he went up in a blaze. The flames immediately beginning to reduce his flesh and the holiness beneath to ashes .His disintegrating form screaming, reaching out to Crowley, those unnaturally blue eyes piercing through the red of the flames, filled with unspoken accusations.

„THAT IS THE PRICE FOR SULLYING MY PROPERTY“

~°~

Crowley woke with a strangled cry. For just a moment, he was ready to claw and bite at anything coming too close, but then reality filtered through his panicked mind.

He was on the couch in his office. Alone.

It had all just been a dream.

His hand subconsciously found his stomach. The tendrils of his occult senses carefully searching for what lay within. He half expected to feel the life form wavering or gone completely, but there it was strong as ever, calmly pulsing in it’s usual content rhythm.

He let out a sign of relief. But his heart was still pounding right through is chest. The all encompassing sense of doom still weighing heavily on his chest. Without thinking, he pushed himself onto his unsteady feet, stumbling over to his desk. He punched in the numbers that had burned themselves into his memory without his consent into the cordless phone. Letting himself fall into his chair with a grunt, he let his hand securely rest on the slight swell beneath his rumpled shirt.

It took exactly three rings.

“Hello, Professor Aziraphale speaking!“

Crowley closed his eyes and thanked the universe. He still wasn’t quite sure if that dream was just that, a dream. Hell had always been one for increasingly convoluted and vague modes of communication. But at least the angel was still there and, hopefully wistfully unaware.

“Hello?“, Aziraphale’s voice cut through his thoughts. Right, he hadn’t planned this far. He usually only called the angel to plan a meetup never like this. Never to just check in.

He let out a shuddering breath.

“I will have you know, we do also accept written communications if speaking isn’t within your abilities“

“Angel“, Crowley huffed. „ You do know those sort of calls are usually from malfunctioning telemarketer machines“

“Crowley!“ , he could hear the smile in the others voice. Overbearing and brighter than two suns combined. „Well, I am aware, but it is always the decent thing to do, point those who might need it in the right direction!“

He took a quick glance at the sleek digital clock on his desk. „At four in the bloody morning?“

“Oh, you’d be surprised“, he could imagine that special twinkle in Aziraphale’s eyes, the one that always made him wonder if the angel was as honest as he pretended to be. “But do tell, my dear, why are you calling? I so deeply missed your presents for our game yesterday“

“Was busy, business stuff! Would probably knock loose a few of your pristine feathers if I told you“

“I am sure a respectable proprietor such as yourself doesn’t get up to too much that could shock the likes of me.“

Crowley let out a groan. “Is still non of your business“

He heard the angel huff on the other side, than a short pause . “Is those one of your ‘you are the opposite‘ moments? If so , I need to inform you—“

“Nah, is just— I don’t want to tell you! Okay?“

“Well, then—“ disappointment laced Aziraphale’s voice. He could vividly imagine his big eyes staring at him sadly. It made him squirm and regret even calling. He simply couldn’t tell the angel or even explain to him why that was. After a moment Aziraphale spoke again. “Why did you call, then?“

‘Because I dreamed Satan came to claim me, telling me he is going to make me his brood bitch all the while destroying you for daring to touch me. Because I am still not sure if it was real or just my own brain’s twisted humor. Because I needed to hear your voice to make sure you are still there’, Crowley couldn’t tell him that either. All just feeling too raw . He huffed . “Ehhh, just felt like it, I suppose”

„Oh“, it was a soft wondrous sound. „That is something new“

„Yhea, Yhea, people change and all that“, he let out an other annoyed huff , “don’t let it get to your head”

„Will you be in for next weeks game?”, the blessed fool sounded hopeful.

Crowley ground his teeth. “No, no I don’t think so”, he tried to say with his usual devil-may-care attitude. He was met with a long pause. His mind very helpfully supplied the image of a very defeated looking angel sitting at his desk sulking (rightfully for once!). It made something twist deep inside his chest . “Too much to do“, he added softly in hopes it worked as excuse.

“If you’d be amicable to it we could—“, the angel hesitated, his voice unsure. “Of course, only if you would want to that is. We could talk over the telephone? I would hate to fall out of touch.”

Only now did it fully sink in: In over six millennia this would probably the first time they would have to stay apart for more than a week. If this was supposed to work he would have to break the millennia old routine they had. It made something in him crack, bitterness and a strange sort of sadness twisting around his throat .

“Yhea sure, what ever, ” he pressed out “But don’t you start calling me whenever you saw a pretty bird! Pigeons are annoying little shits, and you know it.”

“But my dear boy, pigeons are marvellous creatures, and loyal too, they are truly misunderstood and—”

“You are annoying!” With a over-exaggerated sigh he just hung up. He dragged his hand down his face. If he would have continued listening to the angel’s ramblings he felt like he might have cracked. The angel was still here, that was all that mattered. And maybe the occasional call wasn’t a bad idea either. He could keep them short, keep the angel at a distance without fully pushing him away.

A sudden wave of tiredness washed over him. But looking at his couch the office felt way too open, way too large to find comfort in. He would need somewhere else to rest. Somewhere more hidden.

He put a mental note on the list of requirements for the new place he had yet to find. Turns out the housing market wasn’t exactly easy to navigate to begin with.

But for the time being he already knew a spot that might help him get some more sleep. Gathering a few cushions and a blanket, he strode out of his office.

Chapter Text

Warren, Tina and Marjorie stood in front of the open door of the Hellfire’s only and rarely used broom closet. It wasn’t that the Hellfire didn’t adhere to health and safety standards; rather, it quickly became apparent that storing the cleaning supplies elsewhere was far more efficient. So that particular closet had become a rarely used tools closet, then a rarely used tools and things-too-good-to-just-throw-away-but-technically-no-longer-needed closet, and now apparently a rarely used tools, things-too-good-to-just-throw-away-but-technically-no-longer-needed and not-so-secret-pile-of-pillows-and-blankets-with-a-sleeping-boss in it closet.

“Boss gone mental or something,” Warren murmured, looking at a softly snoring figure. “Just wanted to get that one special screwdriver for that Japanese speaker system and found ‘im like that.”

“It is pretty cute,” said Marjorie with a little click of her tongue.

“It’s sad, that’s what it is,” grumbled Tina,arms crossed over his broad chest. “He should be at home curled up with a cuppatea, not in the closet”

Mister Crowley stirred, coiling himself even tighter around the hideously fluffy pillow he was cradling. The swell of his stomach making it only look slightly undignified.

“Didn’t even know we had that many cushions ‘round here,” Tina remarked after a long moment, looking at the rather colourful assortment of plushness.

“You think he brought them specifically for nesting?” Marjorie cocked her head.

“Nesting?! What are you— “ Without missing a beat, his two companions shushed Warren.

“Boss—,” at that Marjorie pushed her own belly out and made a vague gesture. “Got a bun in the oven!”

She earned herself a disapproving glance from Tina, who mouthed, ‘You promised’ at her, only getting a shrug that was supposed to mean ‘It’s Warren, big oaf barely exchanges five words with anybody that isn’t us on a good day’ in return.

The very same just got even more confused. “What?” he blurted out.

“Ssh, quiet, he barely got any sleep all week!” Tina had no clue how much sleep Mister Crowley had gotten. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if Mister Crowley had a bed to go home to—or a home to begin with. Their boss was just this side of odd. He just assumed that it had to be the case, because that’s what cranky pregnant people did: go home to their bed and not sleep so they could be tired all day. Perfectly logical.

Warren gave him that certain dumbfounded look of someone fighting to make reality make sense. “What? How can he be pregnant?”, he asked face, scrunched up as if he were hard at work thinking.

Marjorie rolled her eyes at him. “The leading theory is: he had sex!”

“I know how this works, but –“, Warren huffed,“I thought he was just finally showing his age, developing a bit of a gut. Ain’t he at that point by now. Is a bit unfair if you ask me, we gotta develop wrinkles and sore joints and he’s just – “ he pointed helplessly at the sleeping form “The same as ever and gets to have a kid!”

Marjorie just snorted. “You jealous?” but Tina thought very hard for a second.

“Wait, dose anyone know how old the boss is ?” he finally said.

The group of them went silent for a while, contemplating the difficult question. All while in front of them, a sleeping Mister Crowley murmured nonsense in his dreams.

“He’s at least forty-six-ish,” Marjorie decided.

“You think?” Tina was still contemplating hard. “He barely looks over forty to begin with.” He gave both his companions a glance, looking back between them and Mister Crowley. After all, they were all firmly somewhere within their forties as well.

“Can’t compare us to him,” Warren, doing the same, protested with a frown. “I mean, he’s the boss man, barely working as is, probably got more time doing some fancy anti-ageing stuff.”

“I think he looks perfectly fitting for someone around his later forties! He just, you know, grown into his age. Always looked vaguely forties-ish if you ask me!” Marjorie stated with conviction.

“Yeah but isn’t that, like, an age where you can’t, you know?” Now it was Warren’s turn to signal a pregnant belly with his hands.

“Nah, can happen!” Tina enthusiastically supplied. “Me mum is a midwife, said the oldest person she helped was fifty-six! Is rare, but the miracle of modern medicine or somethin’.”

They all went quiet for a moment, nodding in acknowledgement. All of them aware that things didn’t quite make as much sense as they would have liked to. But then again, Mister Crowley was as eccentric as they came. Maybe the theory that he was a sort of vampire, someone had drunkenly thrown around at a staff party had something to it, maybe he just had won the genetic lottery, or maybe money really could buy you the best plastic surgeons. Nobody knew, and nobody really cared. The man practically had a ‘none of your business’ sign tattooed on his forehead anyway.

“Still need that screwdriver though”, Warren awkwardly broke the silence.

“Eh, he looks pretty snug, think it’s gonna be fine if ye just grab it,” Marjorie answered with a shrug after a moment assessing the situation.

“Isn’t that one in the blue box?” Tina didn’t even wait for anyone to answer. “I think he is laying on it.”

Warren nodded. All of them stared.

“Alright!” Rubbing her hands, Marjorie stepped forward. “Tina, you take the front, Warren the feet, and I’m gonna snitch the toolbox from under him.”

Both men now stared at the waitress.

“We ain’t gonna lift the boss around!”

“Why not? He’s out cold!” Marjorie, much to Tina’s horror gave one of the pillows directly under Crowley’s head a little nudge. Mister Crowley didn’t so much as flinch. “We been practically screaming at each other for the last five minutes, he’s still sleeping like a baby. And having that plastic box in his back can’t be too comfortable.”

“If he wakes up, he is gonna be super pissed.”

“He is also gonna be pissed if the sound system fails again,” Warren helpfully pointed out.

Five minutes later, Warren and Tina had carefully manoeuvred themselves into the small closet, both awkwardly hovering over the sleeping form.

“I think if you grip that pillow and Warren that one, both of you should be fine,” Marjorie was kneeling directly in front of the cushion pile, directing the two others.

“On three! One, two, and THREE.”

Tina and Warren slowly hoisted Mister Crowley up. Except for a bit of mumbling and slight stirring, he stayed perfectly asleep. Yet the men didn’t dare let out the breaths they were holding.

“Just gonna be a moment, boss,” Tina quietly mumbled nonetheless, as if Mister Crowley could hear them.

Swiftly, Marjorie crawled under the lifted figure, digging through the pile of cushions.

“How many bloody cushions does he bloody have!” she grumbled, throwing a few of them behind her. At least one of them had a rather ridiculous-looking duck embroidered.

“Hurry up!” Warren hissed, visibly uncomfortable holding up his end.

Slight shifts didn’t make the task of holding up the sleeping body any less uncomfortable. It seemed like Mister Crowley was trying to seek out the lost warmth of his bedding again. He was becoming restless, letting out small huffs, one of which suspiciously sounded like ‘angel’. The two men were struggling to keep the balance.

Finally, with a triumphant squeak, Marjorie dragged out the smaller toolbox, quickly crawling out from the pile and hastily throwing back the cushions she displaced.

Lowering back Mister Crowley wasn’t as easy as picking him up. Marjorie had to rearrange some of the cushions to make sure he could lay there comfortably. That he seemed unconsciously determined to find a better spot himself didn’t help either, already turning slightly while still in the air, mumbling something or the other about some blanket-hogging idiot.

As he finally rested securely on the soft pile again, he was sprawled on his back, limbs strewn about carelessly, one arm slung over his face.

“I can see it now!” Warren whispered carefully from his place, still awkwardly hovering above Crowley’s lower half.

“See what?” Tina asked, already extracting himself from his place, a feat made considerably harder by the new position of Mister Crowley.

“The bump, you know, definitely isn’t just a gut.”

Indeed, Crowley was now laying in a way that put his midsection on prominent display. The fabric of his no doubt very expensive shirt straining against the swell. It had gotten more prominent ever since Tina had first spotted it, and now without Crowley’s slouch and other measures of hiding, he couldn’t quite wrap his head around how more people hadn’t yet caught on. “Duuhh,” he still breathed, and in a bout of good-natured recklessness, bent down and tugged one of the blankets over the sleeping form. The man sighed in content, unconsciously snuggling into it.

After Tina helped Warren out of the closet, Marjorie slowly closed the door. But before she finally shut it, she leaned in a bit. “Good night, Mister Crowley.”

“Sleep tight, Boss,” Tina chimed in.

“Sweet dreams or something,” mumbled Warren.

And with that, they left him alone in the closet.

“It’s a miracle Boss isn’t a beach ball on legs already, twig that he is,” Marjorie snorted after a while, catching herself a friendly elbow to the ribs from Tina.

“I dunno, maybe that’s like his genetics?” Tina mused. “Maybe the gene that makes you always look vaguely forty-ish also makes you not show?”

“It’s still noticeable, just not— You know.” Warren looked at the others with a strange sort of tight-lipped scepticism. “And he is behaving not quite like himself. What we gonna tell the others when they catch on?”

Marjorie sighed, then shrugged. “Tell ‘em to shut it, I suppose. Or at least keep it down, especially around the Boss, he is a bit sensitive. Gotta respect his boundaries, like try and not treat ‘im any different.”

Warren nodded.

“You know it’s a real shame, I’d love to cheer on that baby every time it kicks his arse.” Warren took the two elbows to the ribs that that had earned him in stride.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale was studying a pair of ancient persian clay tablets. He had been excited ever since he arranged for their acquisition. But currently his heart wasn’t in it.

He found himself utterly incapable of mustering the attention they deserved. His mind always drifting to the looming thoughts gnawing at his conscious.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks he hadn’t seen Crowley in person. Two weeks that felt like they stretched into months already. Sure two weeks didn’t seem like much but in the face of over six millennia of weekly meetings they represented an unprecedented disruption of the norm.

And despite his best efforts the whole ordeal made a certain anxiety bloom in his chest. Even after telling himself that the demon wouldn’t do what he feared, not after he let him cheat and went up against Satan himself. But exactly because it had happened in the first place, because he had to run after him and challenge him, he couldn’t shake the underlying alarm. What if this time, Crowley really left him behind for good?

He had thought they were getting somewhere. The frequency of their meetings ramping up after the demon no longer had to fear hell. Crowley even being a bit less gloomy on occasion. Not fully of course, imagining his Crowley completely without his signature scowl bordered on betrayal. And then of course there had been that night. A series of small things cumulating in something Aziraphale still couldn’t quite believe had actually happened.

Not because of drunkenness mind you, they had both been remarkably sober.

But rather because it felt surreal to have been allowed to get this close without the demon putting up his usual walls. To have had the privilege to see his friend’s vulnerability out in the open, raw without anything to hide behind. To be the reason why his dear demon had let go of his tight control for just one moment. Of having the chance to see him unravel in his arms and still hold him close after.

It also had simply felt incredibly. And Aziraphale liked to believe that the sentiment was shared. At least in the moment Crowley had been overly enthusiastic about it. Had clung to him and begged. Begged! Crowley! Even in his best schemes, he had never once seen Crowley beg, let alone for something already freely given. The memory of it was field away right on top together with the feeling of the demon’s lips against his skin.

He had tried talking about it after. Tried to renegotiate the fronts of their friendship at least a little. And while the demon had simply pretended it had never happened, he also didn’t pull away and things went on like before. And that had to count for something.

All in all, things had been good. Till around two months ago.

Aziraphale didn’t know what had prompted the change. It had started innocent enough. Crowley being a bit more guarded during their meetings. Him not even bothering to take off his jacket let alone his glasses anymore. Aziraphale had thought it was just a phase. The demon did have his moods in the past after all. But then, well, then this had happened. Their contact unceremoniously reduced to reluctant phone calls. Crowley seemed happy enough to hear from him, well, as happy as someone like him got anyway, but he would also make sure they never spoke for more than ten minutes at a time.

Aziraphale hated it.

Hated that he hated it.

Felt guilty for the capability of hating it in general.

In an other universe, where he wasn’t above it, he would have cursed that strange feeling of looming doom in his chest.

But in this reality, he tried to not let this ugly feeling get the better of him.

He currently was just not very good at it.

“Is everything alright, Professor?”, Anathema interrupted his thoughts.

“Oh, yes, everything is splendid”, he lied through his teeth, secretly happy to no longer having to pretend to actually study the blessed tablets. With an easy smile he looked up at his assistant.

As it had turned out Anathema had really thrived in the world of historians and archivists. Bringing an valuable drive for researching and diplomacy with her, she had found her footing relatively quickly. Her fascination with the written word also being an immense benefit. The ancient manuscripts she now had access to, were helping her in her endeavours as occultist. And that might have had something to do with it as well.

She was by far the best assistant Aziraphale had ever had. Probably also helped by the fact that she was so far the only assistant actually aware of his nature. It made a great many things immeasurably easier. And he had come to consider her a sort of confidante. But currently he didn’t felt like talking.

He let out a resigned sigh, his smile only slightly faltering.

“Actually,” he said brightly “I am thinking about taking a little break, would you like to join me?”

Sharp green eyes scanned him with suspicion. But instead of voicing her concerns Anathema just nodded courtly. “Just remember your 3:40 I don’t want to have any more deeply awkward conversations with these people”

“Naturally,” He made sure his reluctance didn’t show. The meeting with whomever, he would have to look at his calendar before attending, was currently the last thing on his mind. And what was really occupying his thoughts, weight heavily on his mood but there was no use in letting that show. “Let us take a walk”

They strolled through the art gallery. One of Aziraphale’s personal favourites. Exchanging a little bit of small talk with Anathema, interspersing it with the occasional titbit of intimate knowledge about some of the artists, could be what he needed right now. Despite everything it was a welcome change of pace to be able to openly talk about his knowledge with a human like that. Not that he usually held back with certain remarks but having his companion acknowledge and not dismiss his knowledge was indeed refreshing. And maybe it could help quite his thoughts a bit and make it seem like everything was alright.

“You’re avoiding something”, Anathema suddenly stated while he tried to explain her the life of Sofonisba Anguissola.

“What ever makes you say such a silly thing?”, he tittered nervously, wringing his hands.

She gave him a sceptical once over. “I heard this lecture before, you rarely ever repeat something twice. You seem distracted in general. So, Yhea, something is up!”

That was one of the downsides of having the young woman as his assistant. She was sharp, too sharp sometimes. She tended to notice things rather quickly.

“I suppose I can’t hide it from you,” he sighed. “Recently I found myself worrying “

A brow rose above horn-glasses. “What about ?” , she asked carefully.

“i am afraid it is in regards of... Mister Crowley”

He watched as the woman’s expression tightened. As much as she had grown fond of him, she had also developed a distaste for the demon. Not that he blamed her. Crowley did have a rather inconvenient habit of causing a bit of chaos wherever he went. And he had taken a particular liking towards Anathema as victim of his escapades, probably because her own inclement towards the supernatural made her a more interesting target.

“What did—,” she struggled to not immediately use one of the many colourful descriptors she usually had for the demon, “he do?”. It made him smile a little. He wouldn’t admit to it but he found some of them quite charming but he also appreciated her respecting him enough to try and not insult his friend.

“Oh he did nothing”, he corrected her lightly. “That is sort of the whole problem. He didn’t even show for our weekly meetings. Had the decency to cancel beforehand, mind you.” He hesitated for a moment. “We have been having phone calls instead but, well, I can’t avoid feeling like he his pulling away”

Anathema huffed. Her lips still drawn tight. “Can I speak candidly?”

“Oh, please do!”

“You are well aware of my opinion of his person”

 Aziraphale was more than just aware of it. Most of Crowley’s visits ended with one or more muttered curse tirades against him. Non of which took effect, of course , he was seeing to that. Yet the point was, Anathema wasn’t exactly shy about it.

“You have mentioned on occasion” He said carefully.

She gave him a look that told him, she knew that this had been an understatement.

“Right, so I do think he is an absolute douchebag, an unnecessary piece of work and I can’t fathom why you would even want to keep him around! But I also think he would never just up and leave you”, there was a bit of exasperation to her tone, as if she didn’t quite like what she was saying. “Listen, he complains every single week, it’s too dusty, our coffee tasting like shit, we are annoying and how he is oh sooo much better than us, but he still comes strolling in the next, as if he owns the place. Everyone knows him by now, not by name, obviously, would be a miracle if Mister too-cool-for-social-decency would give enough shits to introduce himself to the guards letting him in, but they know he is with you. I am sure whatever it is, it’s just a fluke and he will be back complaining about the aesthetic of your study soon enough!”

Aziraphale exhaled shakenly, forcing his features into his usual mild smile. He knew what she said was true, sort of, yet the feeling stayed. “I so do hope you are right , my dear.” He still said and hoped his voice didn’t waver too much.

“You doubt it, don’t you”, she frowned. He really ought to brush up on his acting skills. “You never doubt anything! So what could make you doubt that specifically?”

Well, honesty was a virtue wasn’t it?

“The last time he got the chance, he would have left me and the planet behind without a second thought—, “ he let out a heavy sigh, the memory of it bringing up complicated emotions that he couldn’t quite sort out. Not for a lack of trying , but they were so deeply entangled with all sorts of things that were far outside his power to influence, that he didn’t know where to start. “If I hadn’t run after and challenged him— He hates being here and I believe— I believe under different circumstances we wouldn’t even be friends“

Anathema gave him a stern disapproving look. “I can’t believe what I am about to say”, she took in a deep breath and Aziraphale already braced himself. “You know each other since Eden, right? Since then you had an over six thousand year streak of meeting up weekly to play fucking droughts, solely because you felt like it. And when you want something from him all you have to do is pout. And you really think, he wouldn’t like you under different circumstances?”

“Well...,” he didn’t actually know how to properly respond to that,” yes, but as you yourself have pointed out multiple times in the past, he is still a demon and I am not sure if they even can—”

“As your friend—” she took another deep breath “That is pretty reductionist, don’t you think. No offence, but you are an angel and yet I have seen you come up with more bogus excuses to hold back artefacts for personal use, than I have seen you helping the homeless. I think Mister Crowley is good on that front!” Shrugging she gave him an other sceptical glance. “Besides your study is practically a shrine to you two being inseparable. All these paintings and photographs with the two of you in the background?” she shook her head “One should think you were glued to each other”

“Well...,” Aziraphale started flustered and stopped. “Those are naturally just—“. He let out a deep sigh “In the grand scheme of things those aren’t as plenty as they seem to be”, he finally landed on. But of course Anathema was right, but he wasn’t quite sure if it was just him projecting his own wishful thinking onto their relationship or actual reality. Crowley wasn’t easy, always hiding thing behind impossible pretences and layers up on layers of sarcasm, half truths and denial, sometimes it even got to him.

“You should just go talk to him”, Anathema said softly. It seemed like she had seen the storm brewing behind his temples.

He appreciated the honest concern lying behind her words. But deep down something dark and ugly still reared its head. He loved the demon, of course he did, but was it really worth running after him this time? It might have worked last time, might even work this time again, but what about the next and the one after that ?

He didn’t want to always be the one doing the running after. But he didn’t need to bother Anathema with that any further.

“You are right, my dear, I shall talk it out with him the next chance I get”, he said as cheerfully as he could muster. Even to his own ears is sounded awfully shrill and plain wrong. So before the young woman could even answer, he hastily added, “But enough of me and my silly issues, what about you? I understand you and your young man are currently house hunting? How is the market treating you?”

She gave him one more sceptical glance that seemed to burn through him. For a moment he expected her to not drop the subject but then she let out a defeated huff. She probably realized that all the well meant talking in the world, would probably not stop him from worrying. He felt a bit guilty about that.

“The housing market is hell. Not literally, but we resigned to going to every open house we can, even those we can’t afford!”

“Oh that sounds like you get to see a number of lovely places!” He beamed at her. And honestly to him that sounded like a marvellous past time. Lots of opportunities for inspiration.