Archive of Our Own

“Push!! Push, please. Keep pushing!” Tartan requested sweetly.

Newt began pushing Tartan on the swing. The long ears of their doggie hat flapped in the breeze and they gripped the chains of the swing with their rainbow-mittened hands. It was chilly, though not near as cold and rainy as it had been in previous days. Today had been sunny with bright blue skies and very few clouds. Tomorrow was supposed to be much colder, with promises of snow storms in the next week.

Crowley had told him and Anathema that babies often come when the weather changes. That had been true when he had Tartan and when Anathema had their baby. Now, with Aziraphale doing his hardest work, Newt realized it was true once again.

“Is the baby going to be born at night time?” Tartan asked, kicking their feet out in an attempt to make themselves swing higher.

“I don't know. Babies can take a lot of time even when it seems like they’re close, Noodle.” He gave them another push.

“Push baby!” Tartan pointed to their baby doll sitting in the infant swing next to them.

Newt pushed the baby doll in its swing a few times before going back to push Tartan.

“I was born at the night time?”

“Well, it was overnight, but just when the sun was starting to come up.” Newt remembered that summertime dawn like it was yesterday. “That's why Daddy tells you there were stars and the sun and the moon in the sky when you were born. You came in between the night and the day time.”

“Is baby Bebop excited to come out?” They turned their head to look at him. “Push!”

“Oh yes.” He pushed a little higher. “Baby Bebop must be so excited to meet you and Papa and Daddy.”

Tartan kept kicking their legs out. “Push! I need to go higher.” Tendrils of strawberry blonde hair swirled out of their hat, picking up the light from the winter sunshine. “Push, Uncle Noop! Have to get that c-c-cloud!”

Newt pushed them higher and higher. They didn't make it high enough for Tartan to reach a cloud, but the four year old was still plenty happy. Newt stepped back and let the swing slow down despite Tartan's attempts to pump their legs. They hadn't quite figured out the timing to make the swing go, yet.

“Super Grover!” Tartan yelled and jumped off the swing. They grabbed their babydoll and ran to the next thing - a tall metallic slide.

“That's cold!” they shrieked after they slid down, clutching their baby in their lap. “Going again!”

Newt chased them around the playground that edged along a small field. The birth center was on the other side of the field, just a five minute walk away. They were five minutes from where Aziraphale was currently very deep in his work to bring his and Crowley's second child into the world. Tartan had been present while Aziraphale labored at the cottage and had been in and out when they got to the birth center. Newt was with them the entire time since they got here.

Leo, Newt and Anathema's one year-old, was being babysat by Adam’s mother, Mrs. Deidre Young so Newt could be at the birth. Uncle Noop was chosen to watch Tartan because Aziraphale would be comfortable with him in the birthing room. Having Newt there gave an out to both Tartan and Aziraphale in case things became too intense. Having Tartan at the birth was something Aziraphale and Crowley had discussed almost since the pregnancy tests came up positive. They had many conversations with Tartan, showing them books and videos about pregnancy and birth and brought them along to several appointments. Tartan was always encouraged to ask questions.

Newt had brought Tartan out of the birthing room at Crowley’s gentle direction when things became incredibly intense. Newt recognized that Aziraphale had started the transition phase at that time, which he knew meant things could get very hard on the angel. And very loud. He would await a text from Anathema either telling him it was okay to come in while Aziraphale pushed or that the baby was here. Should that take much longer or if they needed to keep it private, the plan was for Newt to head to Jasmine cottage with Tartan to wait everything out. Only time would tell on this bright afternoon.

“Uncle Noop! Help, please!” They put their doll on the ground and stretched their arms up to the monkey bars. Newt lifted Tartan up and held onto them as they swung their arms and gripped each bar in succession. “I did it! Again!” They went back and forth on the monkey bars several times before Tartan ran off to something else. They played a game of tag, Newt suspiciously being caught every single time. In a reversal, Newt was very successful at finding Tartan during their game of hide and seek, due in part to the preschooler’s non-stop giggling from their hiding spots. Tartan squealed and kicked their legs everytime Newt found them and swung them over their shoulder.

The sound of the Tardis materializing played out from his phone - it was a text from Anathema.

Anathema: “he just started pushing. they said you’re welcome to come in if Tartan wants.”

Newt: “Okay. We’ll head over soon. I think they still want to be in there for the birth.”

Newt watched Tartan sit down on the ground and chat to two little birds that seemed to be intently listening. “Huh,” he shrugged. He’d noticed the way all 3 of the Fell family attracted nature, though most especially Tartan and Crowley. He sat down on a bench and waited for them to finish their very important conversation.

“Noodle! Come over here a minute.” Newt waved to get their attention when the birds flew away.

“Okay uncle Noop!” Tartan ran over and jumped up on the bench, crashing into his side.

“Tartan, Papa is pushing the baby now. Do you want to go in and see? Remember, this is Tartan's choice. You can say yes or no.” He pulled the zipper of their coat back up.

Tartan squeezed their baby doll and scrunched their face. “Will Papa scream some more?”

“He might.” Newt played with one of the ears of the doggie hat. “Sometimes it helps to make a lot of noise when the baby comes out. Papa might scream or even cry, but he might also be a little quiet.”

“Daddy screamed when I came out.” Tartan asked a lot about their birth in recent months and had begun to understand some of the details of their own arrival.

“Your daddy did scream a lot when you were born and then you know what? He laughed, too. He was so happy the minute you came out.” Newt remembered sitting in the parlour, woken by the broken screams from Crowley as he pushed Tartan’s head out. He distinctly remembered the sound of his laugh mixing with a cry just moments before Tartan’s first cry pierced through the cottage.

“Maybe I t-t-tickled him!” Tartan jumped at Newt and tickled him.

Newt fell to the ground and pretended to be tickled to death before sitting back up to face the laughing child. “What do you think? Do you want to go in with Papa?”

“I want to go to Papa and Daddy. And Aunt Natty. Aunt Natty is helping them.”

“Yes, she is.” He bent down and tapped his shoulder. “Come on, then. You and baby get on my shoulders. He walked toward the birth center with Tartan on his shoulders and a baby doll nearly covering his eyes.

“I have to get d-d-dressed!” Tartan proclaimed with urgency when they walked into the birth center. They ran towards Anathema's office where they had left two bags.

“You are dressed, Noodle,” Newt said, confused.

“I need my special clothes. For the new baby.” They had two bags in the office. One was their very special blue backpack with stars, containing their very own midwife supplies. The other was a small green bag with dinosaurs. “Be back, Uncle Noop. Me and baby have to go to the p-potty.” They took their bag and doll into the bathroom, clearly on a mission.

Newt sat in Anathema's high-backed purple office chair and spun around a few times. He could hear the sounds coming from the birthing suite. It was clear that Aziraphale was pushing based on the way his voice and grunts sounded. He could also hear the very soft way Crowley was speaking to him.

The bathroom door opened and out stepped Tartan in a very sparkly, long rainbow sequined dress and equally sparkly golden shoes with little wings at the top of the vamp. They wore an understated gold tiara with rainbow gems. Naturally, a gold handbag was slung cross body. The dress was slightly big, so Tartan compensated by having a long-sleeved green t-shirt with a daisy print and rainbow-striped leggings under it. No sequined look would be complete without a bright blue feather boa and red lipstick. Tartan's doll was equally stylish, now wearing a glittery ballerina tutu and a pair of wings.

“Wow, Noodle, that's quite a look!” Newt was used to Tartan’s distinct fashion choices, but very amused that they decided to dress to the nines to greet their new sibling. Made sense now that he thought of it. Aziraphale had been smartly dressed, though casually for him, when Tartan arrived.

“This is…this is my special Bebop outfit.” They reached into their blue midwife bag and pulled out a book and a green crayon.

“What’s the book for? Midwife notes?” Newt asked.

“No, I am d-d-drawing a pitcher for Bebop. For a present.”

“That's very thoughtful. I know they'd love a picture. Hey, would you like a snack before we go in?” He pulled out apple slices and some cheese from his insulated lunchbox. Tartan quickly gobbled it all up. Newt sat next to them and smoothed out the snakey curls that cascaded to their shoulders. “Would you like your hair back? In a ponytail? The midwives usually wear their hair back at a birth.” When Tartan agreed, he grabbed a spare hair elastic from Anathema's desk drawer and did his Newt best to finger comb through the wilderness of curls and fashioned a ponytail. It wasn't too shabby, if he said so himself.

“Are you ready? I can hear Papa and he is making a lot of noise. Remember, Tartan has all the power. If you need to come back out to the office, just let me know.”

Tartan put their midwife backpack on their shoulders and cradled their baby doll. Newt took their hand, so tiny in his, to walk them down the hall. He paused for a moment outside of the door, waiting until he heard a break in the current moaning coming from the birthing suite. He heard Aziraphale sob out and sigh and knew he was between pushes, a fact confirmed when he heard Crowley say, “that was perfect, Angel. Just like that.”

Tartan squeezed his hand and held their doll, notebook, and crayon tightly while Newt softly knocked on the door and then turned the handle. They walked in quietly.

The room was darkened, dimly bathed in a soft, ethereal blue light that came from the recessed areas of the ceiling and a few L.E.D candles that had been placed all around. Anathema had multifunction lighting put in when the center was built. Parents could choose from a variety of options of intensity and colors. The effect in this room was very calming and magical. Newt was unsure if the magic came from the lighting or from Aziraphale, who, despite his obvious trials and pain here, appeared to glow.

He guided Tartan to a small purple sofa, where they sat together.Tartan set their handbag down next to them and unzipped it to pull out a tiny knit duck, which Newt recognized as a stress/fidget toy that Aziraphale had made. Crowley had one, too. Despite the hard work currently happening, Aziraphale, Crowley, and Anathema seemed to stop time and look at Tartan. Crowley's lips formed a smirk. “You are the most glamorous midwife I’ve ever seen, Tartan.”

Crowley was kneeling on a very thin mat, the same soft purple as the sofa, on the floor in front of Aziraphale, who was seated on a birth stool. A mirror and a small light, pointed towards the action between Aziraphale's legs, were on the floor under the angel. Anathema was seated next to Aziraphale, very close to him, holding his hand. With her other hand, she wiped a flannel along the back of his neck. Both she and Crowley had their hair piled atop their heads in buns, Anathema's tight and neat while Crowley’s was a large nest of curls.

Anathema was beaming at Tartan and Aziraphale managed a weak smile and a very strained “how lovely, my darling.” That was all he could get out before his brow furrowed and his breathing became rapid.

“Try a deeper breath, my Love,” Crowley soothed before taking a large breath and exhaling with Aziraphale. “Blow it down towards me.” He held onto Aziraphale's other hand with his own as the Angel squeezed his fingers. Crowley took another deep breath with him.

Aziraphale’s face was pink and looked down at Crowley while he exhaled long breaths, moaning lowly with them and ending in a sharp whimper. “Oh….please…Crow…oh,” he sputtered as he came out of that push.

Tartan watched reverently, squeezing Newt’s hand. Their other hand gripped the duck up against their chest. They were half on, half off the sofa. Newt watched them closely, observing for any signs of fear or discomfort.

“That was a very nice one, Papa. You are doing good, Papa,” they whispered. It wasn't much of a minute or two later until they were squeezing Newt's hand again while they watched Aziraphale give another push. Tartan followed the breathing work of Crowley and Aziraphale. “Papa, you breathed very good,” they said softly.

Tartan looked at the sofa and fingered the strap of their midwife bag. “I have my midwife bag, Daddy,” they said quietly and helpfully.

Crowley supported Aziraphale through another push, whispering to him in words Newt didn't understand and holding his hand. When the push was over he turned slightly. “Do you have the fetal doppler in your bag? I forgot mine,” Crowley said.

Newt had just watched Crowley tuck his doppler under a chux pad. He smiled.

“Oh! Yes!” They grabbed the bag. “Yes, Daddy! That's okay you forgot!” Tartan pulled some contents out of the bag, placing them on the sofa until they had their doppler and their stethoscope in their hands. They walked with much authority, their bright blue boa flowing behind them and gold dress shoes clacking, to Crowley. “Here, Daddy! And you can use my step-scope, too!”

Crowley draped the stethoscope around his shoulders. “Thank you, Bug! You saved the day.” He kissed their forehead and then lifted them up towards Aziraphale, who bent down so Tartan could give him a kiss on the cheek. They patted his face. “I love you, Papa.”

Newt and Anathema made eye contact. He felt a happy lump in his throat and noticed she had tears in her eyes just as he did. He smiled at the very proud expression on Tartan's face as they walked back to the sofa. Aziraphale’s cries filled the room with more vigor during subsequent pushes. Tartan sat on Newt's lap and clung to his neck for a few moments, duck still in one hand. “Still okay, Noodle? Do you need to go to the office?” he whispered in their ear.

“I can stay here. I’m not scared,” they whispered back.

Crowley held the doppler to Aziraphale's belly during the next push. The sounds of Bebop's heart filled everyone's ears. “They sound perfect. Doing everything they are supposed to do.”

Anathema held out her hand in Tartan's direction. “Do you want to help me hold your Papa for one push? Your Papa is very, very strong, so I will hold onto his hand and you can help by holding his arm. Would you like to do that?”

Tartan walked back over to them with their business strut. They held out their duck to Aziraphale. “You can squeeze Madame Paddles for this push, Papa.” A sparkling smile lit up their face when Aziraphale took it and squeezed it between his hand and Anathema’s. Tartan put their hand on top of Aziraphale's arm, caressing it, while he gave another push with a desperate cry at the end.

Aziraphale looked up at the ceiling and drew in a strained breath before meeting Tartan’s eyes and trying his best to smile. He held out the duck. “That worked perfectly. Thank you.”

“That was such a strong push. I know Papa felt some strength from you, Bug. And Madame Paddles helped.” Crowley said. “They're very, very close now. Do you want to see?” When Tartan said yes, Crowley pointed to the mirror on the floor. “This helps me see under Papa so I don't have to bend down.” He leaned his head close to Tartan, "that’s the top of their head right there. Do you see?”

“Hi baby Bebop,” Tartan sang sweetly. They kissed Crowley's cheek and Aziraphale's knee and hurriedly walked back over to Newt, clutching the duck. “I can see the baby! They have hair.”

“Isn't that cool?” Newt watched Aziraphale reach a shaky hand down between his legs to feel the baby’s head before he was gripped once again, this time holding onto Crowley’s shoulders. “Getting very, very close to meeting them, Noodle.” He pulled a cushion off of the sofa and placed it on the floor just off to the side of where Aziraphale was working.

“Would you like to sit here so you can see a little better?” This way, their line of sight wasn't blocked by Crowley and his work. “We can stay on the sofa if you want.”

“I want to see Bebop.” Tartan moved to the cushion. Though dim, the lighting in the room kept picking up the sequins of their dress and reflecting everywhere in little rainbows making it look like a Disco party in the suite. Tartan placed their doll on the cushion and held their ducky under their arm tightly and began to draw in their notebook, still keeping a close eye on Aziraphale, who was becoming more undone by the minute.

Sweaty, with shoulders and voice shaking, Aziraphale was lightly sobbing Crowley's name over and over. Crowley was speaking in a calm, hushed voice - again with melodic words Newt couldn't understand. The air was becoming more charged with an exciting magical feeling that Newt remembered permeated the cottage just as Tartan was being born. Aziraphale screamed out to his Mother before curling in and crying that everything burned. Anathema was holding him around his back and shoulders as Aziraphale’s hands kept their grip on Crowley's shoulders. When Newt saw how forcefully he held onto Crowley, he was glad his wife’s hands were now being spared.

“I love you, Aziraphale. We’re almost there. I love you so much.” Crowley was looking into Aziraphale's eyes while both of his hands were under him, ready to guide the little head that was about to slowly emerge. “Short breaths. Let's try to hold off strong pushes, yeah? There we go, my Angel. Perfect. Perfect.” Crowley and Anathema matched breaths with Aziraphale. So did Tartan from their spot. Newt noticed that Crowley did not seem to react to how hard Aziraphale was digging fingers into his shoulders. He knew their strength was unmatched by humans and had experienced it plenty of times, but it always caught him off guard when he witnessed it.

Tartan leaned closer and Newt put his arm around them. “Still okay?” he asked.

“Uh-huh. Papa is almost done?” They put their book and crayon down onto the floor next to them and hugged their arms around Newt's side.

Newt lifted them to sit on his crossed legs. “Almost there. You’re doing great, Tartan,” Newt whispered to them. Tartan held onto both of his hands as they seemed to sense the next moment coming.

“Pleasepleasepleasenononono…Crowley…God…Please God,” Aziraphale cried weakly before breaking out into a shattered loud and long sobbing roar as the head of his baby slowly emerged into the waiting and steady hands of Crowley.

“Small breaths, Love. Good…good…I love you…almost there,” Crowley's voice was a calm beacon for everyone in the room. “I’ve got them, Angel. God, I have them.”

Newt was amazed at all that was happening in just one moment. He kept his arms around Tartan, hand in hand with them. Anathema was soothing Aziraphale, whispering encouraging words and holding her arms around him. Her eyes focused on Crowley. Aziraphale was a mighty warrior, a Papa, bringing a new baby into the world with all of his faith and strength. And Crowley…Newt was amazed to see how Crowley was in one moment a mother, a father, a husband, and a midwife. He kept his gaze fixed to Aziraphale's eyes, his voice - though emotional - never faltering, and his hands a steady guide for the head that was emerging.

Thighs shaking, Aziraphale gave a strained grunt, his pink face weary, streaked with tears, and his neck muscles taut, before crying a simple and anguished, “oh,” and dropping his head back against Anathema for a quick moment. She whispered into his ear and kissed his temple. His chest heaved with his desperate breaths. “Crowley…God…please…” he panted, his voice hoarse. He lifted his head and his face once again twisted, causing deep wrinkles in his forehead and around his eyes. A hand desperately grasped for Anathema and she took it, while her soothing voice brought words of affirmation.

“Whoa,” Tartan said in drawn out awe.

Bebop's head was out and they watched as it turned towards Aziraphale's thigh, the little scrunched face slowly becoming visible. Crowley kept a gentle touch with both hands, supporting the head. “Perfect. Perfect, sweet baby.”

Tartan gasped and exclaimed with quiet excitement, “they turned their head!”

“They turn like that so the shoulders can come out next,” Newt explained. “Daddy is going to carefully help Papa get the rest of them out - just a moment more, Noodle.”

“Oh…Aziraphale -” this was the first time Crowley's voice broke “- they're so beautiful. So beautiful. Breathe steady, my Angel. Slow breaths for me. They're coming nicely.” He blew a short breath out with Aziraphale. “Come along, little baby.”

Slowly, one little shoulder slipped out while Aziraphale whimpered almost imperceptibly and steadied his breathing while Crowley gently guided the other shoulder and suddenly the world changed. Newt focused on Tartan’s face, their eyes wide and their mouth open. Little fingers were still holding tightly to Newt’s hands and the duck. He managed to get a quick picture of them and thought it was so beautiful to witness the moment Tartan watched their tiny sibling enter the world. He found himself wiping a tear with the collar of his shirt.

Aziraphale gave a small cry that melted into a softer sigh in which one could hear the relief. He placed his hands over Crowley’s as his husband lifted the baby to Aziraphale's chest. “Oh God…Oh God…Oh God…” his chest heaved and he looked down at the little purple-blue being and smiled. “Oh thank God. Oh…you're here. Crowley. They're here. Oh…I love you, little one, I love you.” He clutched the tiny baby in his strong arms and began to weep.

Tartan jumped up and applauded with gusto. “You did it, Papa! You did it, Papa! Hi, Baby Bebop!”

In a split second, a skillful ballet was performed as Anathema and Crowley quickly switched places. Crowley's midwife mode was done and Anathema took over between Aziraphale's legs. Crowley wiped at the baby with a warm and soft towel while crying through a broad smile, letting his joy flow. He kissed all over Aziraphale's face and head while continuing to gently rub the baby on Aziraphale's chest. The action in the room paused as the air around them became awakened with the strong wailing cry of the new little life in Aziraphale's arms. Immediately, all eyes, even Tartan’s, were glistening in the soft blue light as tears flowed. Smaller cries broke from Aziraphale and Crowley.

“Hello, my beautiful tiny angel,” Crowley sighed happily at the now pinker, obvious even in the soft blue light, and slightly disgruntled baby. He kissed Aziraphale's head. “I love you so much, Angel.”

“They turned pink, Uncle Noop!” Tartan turned their head to look at Newt. “Bebop is pink!”

“That's right. They just took their first breath and now they're getting a lot of air from crying and that turns them pink.” He gave Tartan a big squeeze. “Hey, Noodle, congratulations on becoming a big sibling,” he said, his voice competing with the excited chatter of adults and mewling noises of the newborn. He gave them a fist bump.

Tartan straightened up and smiled brightly, obviously very proud of their official big sibling status. “They're my little baby,” they said sweetly, clasping their hands together in anticipation of the moment they could go up to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was loudly crying, “It was so long. We waited so long for you.” He leaned down and kissed Bebop’s head several times. “So long, my darling.” He turned and kissed Crowley, whose face glistened with the tears that were now streaming past his jaw and along his neck. “They’re finally here.”

“They are. You were extraordinary, my Love.” Crowley cupped his face in his hands and kissed him again. “So extraordinary. So strong. I love you.”

Newt’s vision became blurry from the wetness building in his eyes. He blinked rapidly as tears spilled over his lashes. Tartan gave him a hug and brought him a tissue from a nearby end table.

“Here you go, Uncle Noop. It’s okay.” They patted and rubbed little circles on his back. “You can hold Madame Paddles for a minute.”

This made Newt tear up even more because Tartan, for as fierce and independent as they were - always willing to wrestle him or chase him - also had a very nurturing personality and showed great care with family, friends, and nearly everyone they met. It was a testament to their parents and their own sweet nature.

He dabbed under his eyeglasses with the tissue and gave Madame Paddles a squeeze. Newt knew that conceiving this baby was not a smooth process for the couple, having taken nearly nine months of trying. Newt remembered the sullenness of Aziraphale despite the cheerful mask he tried to wear - a mask that had cracked so much, allowing glimpses of darkness, in the last few months before they conceived. Crowley confided in Anathema often, but there had been a moment where he opened up to Newt on an early Spring day when they were working together in the greenhouse. Snappy quips and inappropriate jokes failed, despite best efforts, to keep Crowley’s true feelings hidden and Newt ended up holding him in his arms and soothing him as the demon broke down. He and Anathema had worried that it would take a while to conceive Leo, but they didn't wait as long as Aziraphale and Crowley. Understanding the meaning of the words coming from Aziraphale touched him on a soul level.

Aziraphale looked at Tartan and held out a hand. “Come over here, darling. They are so eager to meet their big sibling.”

Newt patted their back and kept Madame Paddles, now entrusted to him for the afternoon. “This is a big moment, Tartan.” He held up his phone. He had snuck a few pictures here and there during Aziraphale's labor. He and Anathema had done the same during Crowley’s labor and the gesture had been much appreciated. Some of his photos became part of a large gallery wall in the birth center’s waiting room and a few were blown up and added into exam rooms. He loved taking pictures of the supportive interaction between the two ethereal parents and Anathema and her patient during each birth. Aziraphale had returned the favor and took remarkable photos at Leo’s birth in between his doula duties. Documenting this special time for their family was an honour.

He laughed softly at the clacking sound of Tartan’s fancy shoes and the way they sparkled in their meet-the-baby outfit. Tartan adjusted their tiara before Crowley picked them up and sat them on his lap.

“Hi, baby Bebop. It’s me, Tartan. I talked to you all the time in Papa’s belly, even when he wasn't home.” Their normally boisterous voice was soft and calm.

Crowley, Anathema, Newt, and Aziraphale all looked at one another. What did they mean? Was it just a general statement or was there something deeper? The child's ethereal status was evident - they were, indeed, an angel - but Aziraphale and Crowley hadn't known how their abilities would develop and often questioned how much was too much to tell them at a certain age. They wouldn't find out much in this instant as Aziraphale began to squirm.

“Ah…more contractions. Not terribly bad, but….is that the placenta?” He looked at Crowley and began to breathe a little more rapidly, his face flushing once again.

“Most likely. Nice slow breaths. You may have to push, but you may not. Let your body guide you.” He rubbed his hand along Aziraphale's shoulders. Looking at Tartan in his lap, he asked, “Remember how you learned all about the placenta? It's going to come out now like in the videos you saw. Do you want to stay here or do you want to sit with Newt? You don't have to watch.”

Tartan readjusted their tiara again. “Can I hold Bebop's hands so they aren't sad or scared? They might miss their p-p-palenta.”

“You sure can, Bug. That's very kind of you ” Crowley let them slide off his lap and click clack their heels to the other side of Aziraphale, where they leaned over his thigh to take one of Bebop's hands. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.” A giant smile grew. “They’re holding my fingers!” They looked up at Aziraphale. “It’s okay, Papa. Don't be scared.”

Aziraphale had just quietly commented that he was scared of delivering the placenta. Crowley lightly held his chin and turned his head to face him. He delivered a deep, intimate kiss, pulled away and said, “cough.”

“Pardon?” Aziraphale asked, confused.

“Cough,” Crowley repeated and coughed in demonstration. Tartan mimicked him.

Aziraphale coughed and plop! Anathema caught the placenta in a large stainless steel surgical bowl. Tartan was unfazed and, rather delighted in the sound it made. Anathema gave them two blue nitrile gloves, size small, which looked hilarious on them, and allowed them to help her clamp the cord.

“Newt, can you hand me that autoclave pack on the tray?” Crowley asked of an object that had been sitting on the metal tray where Anathema had supplies for the immediate recovery. He knew what this was - it wasn't actually autoclaved, Crowley just thought it was cool and convenient to have it packed as such. It was sterilized by miraculous means.

Made of a silvery metal that glowed in a way that hinted at celestial origins, Crowley peeled open the pack and carefully pulled out a small dagger-like knife that has existed since before civilization. Its gilded handle was inscribed with a language Newt had learned belonged to Crowley and Aziraphale and conferred a potent blessing of protection. Having cut thousands of ancient cords, it miraculously kept its ethereal luster and was used when Tartan’s cord was cut and later when Crowley handed the blade to Newt to cut Leo’s cord. Crowley snapped and a flame appeared, which he ran all along the blade.

“Already blessed and sterilized, but just an extra boost.” They didn't do many miracles in front of Tartan, but the child was well aware that they had some extra special abilities.

“Whoooaaa,” Tartan sighed out. “Daddy magic. Is…is…is that for the um-pickle cord?”

“It is.” Crowley looked at Tartan and smiled. “Papa used this knife to cut your cord when you were born. We’re going to use it for Bebop's cord. You can help me by holding onto my hands, but you have to be very, very careful like when you help Daddy and Papa cook, yeah? Don't take your hands off of Daddy’s hands. Would you like to help?”

“Yes, Daddy!” The room was filled with more clickity clacks of fancy shoes as Tartan joined Crowley on the other side of Aziraphale.

“Here we go, little one. Are you ready, Love?” Crowley put his hand on Aziraphale's cheek. Aziraphale nodded a yes, his eyes already teary again. With a very careful and skilled hand, Crowley - assisted by Tartan - cut the cord that had been the connection between Aziraphale and Bebop for all of these months. After a small round of tears from both parents, they decided it was time to move Aziraphale from the birthing stool to the bed.

Anathema examined Aziraphale before having him get up. “I’m not seeing any tears, though you are a bit swollen, which is expected. Everything is looking good, your bleeding is normal. I’ll check again once you're settled in the bed.”

Aziraphale shyly asked for his robe,a tartan mix of blue, cream, and yellow, which he had ripped off himself and flung across the room during transition. Newt brought it to him and helped him into it.

“Tartan, can you get the blanket Papa knitted for Bebop? It’s in our bag.” Crowley pointed to a black, red, and grey tartan overnight bag sitting atop a chair. “I’m going to help Papa get onto the bed and then you can come over with us, yeah?”

Tartan took their blanket-retrieval job very seriously and then sat with Newt on the sofa as they waited for Aziraphale to walk over to the bed. “Is it hard for Papa to walk?”

Newt shook his head up and down. “Papa is pretty sore and his legs might feel a little shaky, but that's normal and he will be feeling better soon. He just needs a little extra help getting to the bed for now."

Aziraphale, Crowley, and Anathema worked together as the angel slowly stood up from the birth stool, clutching Bebop to his chest. Crowley braced him, holding him around his back. Anathema held a chucks pad between his legs. Together, she and Crowley carefully guided Aziraphale over to the bed, whose suspiciously tartan print bedspread was covered with fresh under pads. Several pillows awaited Aziraphale, ready to support his back. Gently, they helped Aziraphale turn and eased him into a comfortable position, propped up on the nest of pillows. Anathema held his water bottle up so he could take a few sips.

Wincing, Aziraphale took a few deep breaths and looked down at the baby. “You're really here.” He gave the baby several kisses to their head and cheek. Crowley sat next to him on the bed. “They’re so beautiful, Crowley. My God. So beautiful.”

“They're absolutely gorgeous, just like their Papa.” He wrapped his arms around Aziraphale and the baby. “Thank you, Angel. I’m so proud of you. You're incredible.”

Aziraphale reached a hand under Crowley’s chin and pulled him closer for a sweet, long kiss. “Happy Anniversary, my darling.”

Crowley smiled and whispered, “Happy Anniversary, Angel,” and delivered another kiss. “This brings a whole new level to our gift-giving,” he chuckled.

Newt was proud that he was able to get a few excellent shots of the moment. He hadn’t realized until Aziraphale said it, but today was their anniversary of when they first began their romantic relationship - when they officially started “dating” one could say. He also happened to know that they conceived this baby on their wedding anniversary. These two always managed to find a beautiful symbolism in everything.

Anathema approached the bed. “I’m going to examine you again and clean you up a little. Is that okay?” she asked. When Aziraphale answered affirmatively, she put on fresh gloves and began her examination.

Aziraphale looked up towards Tartan. “Come on over, my little darling. Bring the blanket.” Smiling, he waved his hand to beckon them over.

“There you go, Noodle,” Newt said. “Bring this blankie to Bebop and cuddle with your family. Congratulations on being a big, big sibling.” He hugged Tartan before they walked over to the bed and stood with his phone at the ready for a million more photographs.

Tartan grabbed the blanket, babydoll, ducky, and their notebook and walked over to climb onto the bed and into Crowley's waiting arms. “Hi, Bebop. I have your blanket. Papa made it and I helped hold the yarn!”

Crowley kissed Tartan's head several times. "Oh, you dressed so nicely to meet your little baby. Now I know where my lipstick went.” He winked. “Here -” he pointed to Tartan’s shoes “- you can take those fabulous shoes off so you can get comfy, yeah?” Crowley helped Tartan take off their shoes. “I’m so proud of you, Bug. Having you here helped Papa and you saved the day by loaning me your doppler and your stethoscope.” He squeezed them in a big hug, popping a rapid succession of kisses to their head.

“Can you put the blanket over Bebop? That will keep them nice and warm on Papa’s chest."

With a look of very proud concentration, Tartan adjusted their tiara again and unfolded the blanket to carefully place it over the baby, minding the edges and corners to be sure they were laid out nicely.

"Can I give Bebop a kiss?" They asked in a sweet and awed voice.

"You absolutely can, my dear," Aziraphale answered, smiling down as Tartan leaned over to kiss the tiny head on his chest, leaving a small lipstick mark. "They already love you so much."

Tartan gave Aziraphale a hug and a kiss on his cheek, which brought a tearful smile from the angel, who now had a matching lipstick mark. "You did very good pushes, Papa." Tartan snuggled back into Crowley's lap and they both quietly watched as Aziraphale and the baby regarded one another, memorizing each other. Aziraphale became lost in the moment, whispering to the baby, and stroking their head with a gentle hand.

Newt took many photos during this time. He felt incredibly touched by all of the love and the sweet moments he had witnessed during the day. There was persistent awe for his wife and he was glad for the chance to have this experience with her, especially as she was in her element. As always, Newt admired her brilliance and the way she cared for her patients. He couldn't believe all that he had been through with this family - his family - including what was now the third birth in four years. Newt grew up with a small family and he was often lonely as a child, but now his own son would have two cousins close in age and he was happily grateful for that fact.

“Come here, Newt. No need to be shy,” Aziraphale said softly, smiling at him.

Newt walked over to the bed and stood next to Aziraphale's side. He peered down at the little face poking from under the rainbow blanket, eyes wide and alert. “Hello, little baby. I’m your uncle Newt.”

“Uncle NOOP!” Tartan corrected him.

“I’m your uncle Noop. I’m happy to finally meet you.” He chuckled at the tiny face that looked very familiar. “You two hit copy and paste with this one. Almost identical to Tartan.”

“They look like me?” Tartan squealed.

“You looked a lot like this when you were born, Bug,” Crowley answered. He pinched his thumb and index finger together. “You were just a teeny bit smaller with more hair.”

“Our little Bebop here has Daddy’s ears. You have Papa’s ears,” Aziraphale explained, tracing a finger along the newborn's ear. “And your hair was just a little bit lighter and you were born with more of it. But you are remarkably alike in many ways.”

“Here.” Newt held up his camera. “Let me get a picture of all of you, if you don't mind.” He waited for them to huddle together and took several photos of the happy, though exhausted, faces. “And then there were four. Your first official family photo,” he said proudly and held up the screen so they could see a photo.

“How lovely,” Aziraphale said. “Thank you, Newt. I look forward to seeing that photograph hanging in our homes. You’ve been an amazing support and fantastic photographer.”

The baby began turning their face towards Aziraphale's chest. “Oh! Ah…” he looked at Crowley. “I think they might want to try nursing.”

Crowley squeezed closer to Aziraphale. “They're rooting for sure. Let's give it a go, Angel.”

“I can help, Papa!”

“Why, I’m certain you can. Come closer, my dear.” Aziraphale was holding a breast and began to rub his nipple along the baby’s top lip. “Open wide,” he whispered to the baby, who moved their head back and forth with an open mouth, ready to latch on. He smiled at Tartan, who was gingerly cradling the baby’s head. “Thank you, sweet Tartan. What a mighty fine helper you are.”

While the new family of four cuddled together as Aziraphale got the hang of nursing, Newt pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves and began to help Anathema clean up the area where Aziraphale had given birth. They rolled underpads into trash bags and wiped down the birth stool. Empty autoclave packs, gloves, and gauze pads were picked up and thrown out.

Anathema moved the bowl with the placenta to a high cart and examined it again, nodding affirmatively when Crowley said he wanted to examine it. She brought it over to him so he wouldn't have to leave the newly nursing Aziraphale's side. Crowley held the bowl while she flicked a new underpad open. She handed him a pair of gloves and sat next to him as he thoughtfully examined the placenta and answered questions about it from a very curious Tartan, who was learning all about blood vessels and how the patterns almost looked like a tree. When he was done, he placed it back in the bowl. Anathema took it away and would soon put it in an airtight container in a fridge designed just for this at the birth center. Crowley and Aziraphale would take it home and bury it under a grove of trees, just as they had done with Tartan’s placenta.

Newt brought the trash bag he was using to Crowley so he could throw his gloves in. He continued to help Anathema clean up, bringing bags to outside bins and placing biohazard in appropriate containers. It wasn't often that he helped in this way, but he was used to the routine enough and enjoyed the part he played as husband to a brilliant midwife. He also helped her set out some extra blankets as well as extra bedding for the family, should they need it. He grabbed a jar of herbal perineal wash that Crowley had made and funneled it into a few peri-bottles, handing one to Anathema who would use it shortly when she helped Aziraphale into mesh knickers. He put two more full peri-bottles into the bathroom. He refilled water bottles for Aziraphale, Crowley and Tartan. Another bottle was filled with an electrolyte drink Crowley made for the angel.

Next up was getting ready to serve some food. He’d made a casserole requested by Aziraphale and kept it in the fridge in the Birth Center’s kitchen. There was also homemade chicken noodle soup made with bone broth from the whole chicken bones, which was nutrient dense and perfect for after a birth. Crowley had requested it for his own birth and insisted on the same for Aziraphale. The larger meals would be served later when Aziraphale was ready. For now he had bento style containers with sliced cheese, homemade granola bars, blueberries, and almonds. One box for each person in the family to recoup energy. He added a tin of chocolate biscuits and loaded everything up on a roll cart and brought them to the room.

In between small jobs, he continued to take pictures. Crowley and Tartan were taking many as well. Tartan was delighted with the new job just given to them as a photographer. They had grabbed Aziraphale's phone from the overnight bag and were happily clicking away while the baby continued to nurse.

“Does Papa have a lot of milk in his boobies? Can we see the milk?”

“Papa has colostrum, which is a super special golden milk that has all sorts of important vitamins and fats and germ-fighters that Bebop needs the most for a few days. Then his milk will come in and he will have lots and lots of it,” Crowley explained.

Newt caught the flash of sadness in Crowley’s eyes when Tartan declared that “Daddy doesn't have anymore milk for babies.” He noticed how Crowley put a graceful hand over his chest as he turned his head and wiped at his eyes quickly. The demon caught him looking and Newt offered him a kind smile of support. Crowley nodded his head in acknowledgement. In conversations here and there, he had learned that Crowley struggled emotionally when nursing was over and even struggled with the body changes needed to conceive Bebop. It had been a very bittersweet process for him.

Aziraphale shifted his weight on the bed and winced. “Oh, contractions, I think.”

Crowley ran his hand along the angel’s low back and massaged him there. “It can be intense, Love, these first few days.” He looked at Aziraphale and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered back. “You don't have to be sorry. This isn't from you, my darling.” He leaned over to kiss him. “I love you.”

There was still a lot Newt didn't know about the two of them, but over the years his understanding of their history grew and both had shared more with him and Anathema about their role in the world’s history. It made him understand what that little exchange had been about and he felt it as a small pain in his chest. Crowley had changed and grown a lot in five years, but there was still so much under the surface that occasionally bubbled up.

“Are you okay with me weighing them and giving them an exam?” Anathema asked. “Or do you want to do skin to skin first, Crowley?” I can check their little heart again very quickly and then come back.” She had already done small exams here and there over the last hour.

Crowley and Aziraphale murmured to one another for a moment. "Think I'll have a few moments of skin to skin and then you can examine and I'll drop them back onto my chest," Crowley answered. "You can give them a listen first, though."

Anathema pulled her stethoscope off her neck and put it in her ears. "Hello, sweet baby," she cooed as she pressed the bell to their chest. "Absolutely perfect," she declared after taking a good listen. She leaned down and kissed Aziraphale's head. "We'll give you some privacy for about 15 minutes and I'll be back to do the exam. Sound good?"

"Good plan," Crowley answered.

Newt waited while Anathema typed a few things into her laptop before closing it. He took some photos as Aziraphale gently handed the baby to Crowley, who began to weep. Tartan was immediately by his side, rubbing his back and giving him a kiss on his cheek.

"It's okay, Daddy. It's okay." They hugged around Crowley's shoulders. "This is Daddy, Bebop. Our Mama."

Crowley cried even harder at that while he unbuttoned his shirt and placed the baby on his chest, skin to skin with the rainbow blanket over them. He dipped his head down and kissed them. A crying Aziraphale leaned over to kiss Crowley and put an arm around him.

"I love you three so much," Aziraphale said with a shaky sob.

Anathema put her hand on Newt's arm. "Come on," she whispered. She guided him out of the birthing suite and to her office, where she sank into his arms for a very long hug. “What an incredible day,” she sighed into his chest. “These two manage to take my breath away constantly and I can't believe I just attended another angelic birth.”

“It was an unbelievable experience. Tartan did quite well, I think. They were very enthusiastic about everything. I can't believe I just witnessed that.” He rubbed her shoulders as soon as she sat down.

“It's surreal. I experienced it with Crowley, but the power they have is something that just blows my mind. I’ve never felt anything like it.” She laughed lightly. “Tartan’s outfit was top notch. Love that kid so much.”

“They were very insistent on changing when they got back from the playground. Their babydoll got the fancy treatment, too.” He worked out a tense spot in her shoulders. “My favourite part of all this was watching Tartan reacting to everything. Got some great pictures, too.” He continued on with the massage until it was time to go back into the room. They brought along some red raspberry leaf tea for Aziraphale.

“Tea is appropriate since you gave birth at tea time.” Anathema handed the mug to Aziraphale to take a sip and then placed it on the bedside table next to him.

“Four o’clock on the dot. I’m nothing if not punctual and one is never too young to make a grand arrival for tea time.” He reached over to caress the tiny red-haired head poking out from under the blanket on Crowley’s chest.

“Ready to weigh and examine them?” Crowley asked, sitting up straighter, a protective hand splayed over the baby’s back.

“I’m ready when you are.” Anathema set down the sling for the hanging scale on the side of the bed opposite from Aziraphale.

Crowley waited for Aziraphale to kiss the baby before standing up. “Ready to meet your Aunt Natty?” he asked, smiling down at the baby.

“Hello, sweet little baby,” Anathema coo'ed. “We’ve all been so excited to meet you. You are so gorgeous. So perfect.” She carefully took the baby from Crowley’s arms and gave a little smile as he circled and paced around her before settling back onto the bed with Aziraphale. “Awww, they are so precious.”

“Can I help?” Tartan asked, bouncing off the bed.

“You sure can! I’m going to listen to their heart first and then you can listen, too.” She laid the baby down onto the bed. After listening to their heart, she let Tartan take a listen. Tartan ran and grabbed the stethoscope from their midwife backpack.

“It goes bump bump bump bump bump bump! It sounds like mine and Papa’s and Daddy’s. It’s faster,” Tartan observed.

“That’s right. The sounds are different now that we don't have to use the fetal doppler. And baby hearts beat a little faster than big kids like you. Their heart sounds perfect. Little lungs sound great as well.” Anathema ran her delicate fingers over the newborn’s skin. She did a series of tests, moving their limbs around, checking reflexes, checking their spine and hips,lips and palette, and confirmed that all was well with their scalp and head. She carefully explained each part of the exam process to Tartan, who was especially excited to see Bebop’s reflexes.

“They’re walking!” Tartan’s eyes widened as the baby lifted their feet off the bed one at a time while Anathema held them around their chest, checking their walking reflex. Crowley and Aziraphale looked on with smiles at both of their children.

Newt sat in an armchair and watched, taking note of Tartan’s enthusiasm and intense focus as Anathema performed her thorough exam of the newborn. The bright and warm countenance of his wife as she looked upon the newborn and talked to Tartan made his heart flutter. He noticed - he could sense - eager anticipation and perhaps some mild impatience from Aziraphale, who likely wanted to hold his baby. Crowley was carefully and intently observing the exam, a look in his eyes that Newt recognized from times when Crowley showed extra protectiveness.

Anathema gently laid the baby down over a sling. “We’re going to see how much Bebop weighs.” She picked up a long brass object. “This is the scale. You can help me read the numbers on it you'd like,” she said and pointed to the numbers. She hooked the two rings of the sling to the scale and lifted it to suspend Bebop in the air.

“This shows kilograms and pounds…and…oh, Aziraphale. Wow.” Anathema’s eyes widened. “She looked at Tartan and pointed to the scale. Can you tell me that number?”

Tartan squinted. “That’s a four!”

“Yep, and this little hash mark shows that Bebop is right in the middle of the four and the five. She pointed again. "And that number. Do you know that one?”

“Ten?”

“Wow, Aziraphale. Bebop is 4.5 kilograms. Ten pounds right on the nose.”

Crowley breathed out a “whoa.”

“Certainly felt like it both in the carrying and the birthing of this precious one,” he laughed.

Anathema lowered the baby from the scale and undid the sling. Tartan helped measure the baby’s head and then they measured the length.

“We have another tall one. They're 53.3 centimeters. Twenty one inches even.” Smiling, she leaned over the baby and tickled at a foot. “You must have been very scrunched up in there.” She looked to Crowley and Aziraphale. “Do you two want to dress them or just put on a nappy for now?”

Newt grabbed a nappy and brought it over to the bed after Aziraphale said he wanted more skin to skin and told Tartan they could help out on the nappy. Tartan had been practicing on their dolls for months. Anathema and Newt also let them help with Leo. It was no surprise that Tartan was able to expertly help get the nappy on. The baby began to turn their head and brought their fist to their mouth.

“Give them here.” Aziraphale immediately reached his arms out and leaned forward so Anathema could hand him the baby. He brought them to his chest and, with Crowley’s help, got them to latch on easily again. With the family once again cuddled together, Newt took a few more photos and then held Aziraphale's water bottle to his lips as he nursed. He also fetched a babygrow and bodysuit from their overnight bag.

When the baby was finished nursing, Tartan was able to help Aziraphale dress the baby, proudly proclaiming that they practice on their babydoll everyday and have become something of an expert at dressing babies. They first donned a simple mint green bodysuit with a teeny star in the center of the chest. Over that, they helped tuck the baby’s arms and legs into a cream babygrow with a pastel vintage Winnie the Pooh print. Tartan declared them to be well-dressed after zipping the babygrow and the next highly anticipated moment unfolded.

“Are you ready to hold the baby, Tartan?” Aziraphale asked softly.

Tartan’s entire body wiggled, unable to contain the excitement. It was decided that the sequined dress - though exceptionally lovely and perfect to welcome a new sibling - might be too scratchy, so Tartan pulled it off and now sat in their daisy shirt and rainbow leggings. Eager arms stretched in front of them as they waited for Aziraphale to hold the baby out for them. With help from both parents, Tartan cradled the baby on their lap and up against their chest. Bebop was alert, dark eyes wide and focused on Tartan. Baby and Sibling studied one another while Newt and Anathema snapped pictures non-stop.

“Awww. Hi Bebop.” Tartan rocked side to side and leaned over to kiss the baby on the head. “They like me!”

“They love you very much, my darling angel,” Aziraphale kissed Tartan’s cheek.

Tartan quietly looked over their new sibling, one hand exploring tiny fingers and arms. “They remember me. From before.”

Newt stood shoulder to shoulder with Anathema, who looked up at him before meeting the eyes of both Aziraphale and Crowley. It was another moment that they had gotten used to, though no less in wonder, with Tartan.

“I have a lot of dinosaur colouring books and you can help me make a dinosaur mansion. Then we can watch Daddy’s stars and Papa can read us stories. You and me can watch the Muppets and Peppa Pig.”

The family was left to enjoy one another’s company in peace while Anathema and Newt worked together to heat up dinner for everyone. Both were invited to stay and eat with them and they pulled up chairs next to the bed to enjoy Newt’s cooking with their family. Crowley held the baby and fussed maybe a little too much to make sure Aziraphale was eating and drinking plenty. Tartan happily bopped along and kicked their feet in their spot between their parents, telling Bebop about all of the special things they were going to be able to eat when they got older.

“Thank you both, for everything,” Aziraphale began, placing his bowl down. “Your expertise in various arenas made everything run smoothly and certainly provided me with a comfortable space in which to birth this darling little one. I don’t know what we’d do without either of you.”

“We’re so honoured that we could experience this with you, Aziraphale. You four mean everything to us,” Anathema said, trying to hold back some of the emotion in her voice. “I’m so happy that we’re here.” The meaning was implied - there had been so much worry that Aziraphale would never have the chance to get pregnant.

More loving words had been passed around the family before Aziraphale indicated he needed to get up and another milestone was on its way. Crowley looked up at Newt. “Would you like to hold the baby? I’m going to help Anathema get him to the toilet.”

Newt sat on the edge of the bed and gently took the baby from Crowley’s arms. Tartan was immediately at his side, taking a picture of him with the sleepy newborn. “Hello, little baby. I’m so happy to finally hold you.” Little eyes in slits fluttered open momentarily to look at him before shutting again. His own eyes filled up and he took in the baby’s features, so similar to the four year old next to him. Same cheeks, eye shape, nose, and chin. “You two look so similar,” he whispered to Tartan. “This is very much the way you looked when you were just born. And they are loved very much, just like you.” Tartan hugged him around his side and he happily enjoyed his moment with his little buddies.

Aziraphale survived his first trip to the toilet and was returned to the comfort of the bed, which now had a fresh layer of underpads over his spot. The angel had officially been welcomed into the mesh knickers club, complete with a large frozen pad, which he had declared, “unpleasant, but necessary and doing the job.”

Anathema and Newt once again left the family to have private moments while they straightened up a little more and made sure everything in the kitchen and refrigerator was easily accessible for the overnight stay of the parents. Tartan would be coming home with them to sleepover so Crowley and Aziraphale could spend the first night in ease at the birth center. They’d return in the morning to check over them, before seeing them off. There were plans for Anathema, Newt, and Leo to join the family at the cottage for a few days for a little extra help. Until then, the evening was upon them and it was time for them to wrap up an exciting day.

They returned to the room to find the family snuggled up together, Aziraphale nursing once more. “We told them their name!” Tartan exclaimed. “They like it!”

“Who do we have here?” Anathema asked, sitting down on the bed.

Crowley put a hand on Tartan’s shoulder. “Would you like to do the honours, Bug? You can tell Aunt Natty and Uncle Noop the baby’s name.” He looked at them both and winked. “Surprisingly, Bebop will remain a nickname.”

Newt put his hands over his cheeks. “Their name isn’t Bebop?”

“Only sometimes,” Tartan informed him, quite matter-of-factly. They cuddled into Aziraphale’s side and stroked the nursing baby’s head. With an air of big sibling pride, they announced, “this is Austen Eirlys. Daddy picked the first name and I helped Papa with the second name! It’s um…” They looked up at Aziraphale. “What kind of word is it, Papa?”

“Welsh,” Aziraphale whispered with a little wink.

“It’s Welsh and it means s-snowdrop.”

“Oh that is so lovely,” Anathema breathed. “Such a special name and how wonderful that you got to help pick it!”

“The most surprising moment of the day was that I was able to push a baby out. The second most surprising moment of the day is that Crowley chose the name Austen. I’m absolutely tickled pink over it!” He looked down at Austen with a soft expression. “When we left home to come here this morning, we noticed that the first snowdrop had bloomed in our front garden. I had stopped in the throes of a contraction, noticed the flower, and focused on it as I got through the surge.” He looked at Crowley with the same softness. “Snowdrops hold quite a special meaning for us."

"I love that Crowley chose a book name and you chose a plant name," Anathema said wistfully.

"Well, Jane Austen was also a master spy, brandy smuggler, mastermind -" Crowley began. Aziraphale put a hand on his arm. "Right. I've known for quite a while. Proud of myself for keeping it secret." He kissed Aziraphale's cheek. "We've done a good job of blending parts of ourselves together over the years."

Newt snorted and held back a laugh. “You don’t say.”

"Not what I meant, Pulsifer. Really, in front of my babies?" Crowley huffed dramatically and smiled.

Anathema got to hold the baby once more after helping Aziraphale, now dressed in an unbuttoned lavender and cream striped pyjama top with his robe over it to cover his mesh knickers, to the toilet for a second time and giving both him and the baby another once over when they settled back onto the bed. She handed Austen off to Aziraphale and gave him a big hug where they whispered gentle words to one another. She fussed a little bit, making sure they would be comfortable there overnight and telling Crowley at least twenty times where everything was, as if he didn’t know the entire birth center like the back of his hand.

Newt leaned over for an angelic hug. “Thank you for letting me be a part of this. I don’t really have the words to tell you how amazing it’s been.” He held onto Austen’s hand, smiling at the reflexive grip in response. “They’re absolutely beautiful and it was a blessing to see them come into the world and watch Tartan become a big sibling.”

“Newt, you’re a blessed part of our story and I hold much gratitude for the way you cared for our sweet Tartan today. My body and mind are exhausted and many words are escaping me, but my heart is so full and you’re a part of that. The care shown by you and our dearest Anathema have done wonders for the Crowley-Fell clan and I thank you a million times. Though you may be human, I know we are in the presence of true angels.” He held his free arm out to bring him in for one more hug.

Tartan pulled a sheet of paper out of their drawing book. “I drew this pitcher when Austen was being born. Can you hang it up so they don't miss me tonight?” They held up the drawing, done mostly in one green crayon, and pointed to figures on the page. “This is a Papasaurus and a Mamasaurus and a Tartansaurus and a Austen b-babysaurus and lots of stars.” They looked at their artwork and pointed to three ovals with sticks coming out of them. “Oh and Uncle Noop and Aunt Natty and baby Leo, b-b-ut not dinosaurs because my paper got too small.”

Aziraphale held his hand out to take the picture. “My sweetest angel, how kind of you to gift us lovely artwork.” He held it up to Austen. “You will never lack artwork with our talented Tartan. Oh my darling, I can tell they love it. Thank you.”

Anathema left and returned to the room with a roll of tape. They taped the drawing to the wall above Aziraphale. “So the baby can look at it when they are eating.”

Anathema and Newt gave the family some extra time to say goodnight. Tartan double-checked with Anathema to make sure they didn’t need to bring their midwife backpack with them “in case someone has a baby at the nighttime,” but Anathema assured them that she didn’t have any patients who were due for the rest of this week. With a few more kisses and hugs between everyone, Tartan was almost on their way out with Newt and Anathema when they ran back to Aziraphale, holding a hand out. “You can keep Madame Paddles overnight in case you miss me.”

Crowley walked the three of them to the car, leaning in for extra hugs and kisses from Tartan. “Have fun with Leo. Maybe you can help Uncle Noop with breakfast in the morning. You’re the best helper for everything, Bug. I love you very much.”

Newt arm-wrestled with Tartan for a moment while Crowley and Anathema hugged and shared plenty of words between them. When he got out of the car, Crowley held an arm out to him and pulled him in for a very tight embrace. Newt could feel the wet skin of Crowley’s cheek against his ear.

“Thank you for feeding us and for taking care of my husband. And thank you for taking care of my baby all day and making them feel welcomed and safe during all of it. You’re an amazing dad and my kids are fortunate to have you as their uncle. Love you a lot.”

Newt had a lot to say about how good it felt to be part of this family and to always feel accepted and needed, but it was hard to get words past the emotions building in his throat. “I love you, too. Thanks for having me in your family. Today was brilliant and it was fascinating to watch you in so many roles at once. And I am always happy to hang out with Tartan. They are the coolest kid.”

Tartan beckoned Crowley once more and he squeezed in to lean over their carseat. They reached up and played with a curl that had escaped his bun. “I can…when I get b-bigger, I can be a midwife and work with you and Aunt Natty? ‘Cause…’cause I want to be a midwife when I get bigger and I can work here.”

To say Crowley was a melted mess of tears would be an understatement. Newt watched parent and child hug again before Crowley gave them a million kisses and then closed the door. He stood on the front stoop of the birth center, blowing kisses, and waving them off until Newt could no longer see the center in the mirror.

Once home at Jasmine Cottage after picking up Leo, Tartan helped give the one year old a bath and get them dressed in pyjamas. They snuggled up to Anathema while she nursed Leo and chattered on and on about the events of the day, infusing their excited energy into every word until tiredness finally caught up to them. The sleepy preschooler got ready for sleep and climbed onto bed in the spare room, happily listening to Anathema read them a story while Newt rocked their son to sleep. It didn’t take much until Tartan was sound asleep with their doll tucked under their arm.

“What an unbelievable experience. I’ll never get used to anything like this,” Newt whispered to his wife as they cuddled together in bed. They had a pretty set routine after she attended births. He always gave her massages as birthwork required a lot of physical maneuvering and stamina and, quite often, staying in odd positions for long periods. After, they’d indulge in lovemaking, which was Anathema’s preferred way to dispense built up energy from a birth. Then, they’d talk until they both fell asleep. Life with Anathema was always beautiful, but he always cherished these moments a bit extra.

“Everything about them is magic. Everything. I cry at births a lot, but never the way I do with those two. This one, God, Newt, it was so scary how low Aziraphale had been before he finally got pregnant. I always held some hope because Crowley told me he just knew for certain would happen - even though he struggled a lot with his own doubts - but I had moments where I almost believed today wouldn’t happen. It makes me so happy.”

“It was really cool watching Crowley. He was tremendous for you with Leo’s birth so I knew he was good at his job. There is something extra special about watching him deliver his own child. Wish I had the guts to do that.” He combed his fingers through her hair, which had been set free from its bun and now blanketed the skin over her shoulders and breasts. “I’d faint,” he laughed.

She laughed along with him. “You might. You were very good with Tartan today. I loved watching two of you together. She adores you so much and I hope you realize how invaluable you were during the birth. With you there, Crowley and Aziraphale could relax a bit more and concentrate on bringing Austen out into the world.”

“You weren’t too bad yourself,” he said and rolled himself on top of her, giggling into a kiss.

The next morning found Newt waking up with the tiny version of a very familiar nose quite close to his face. “Good morning, Noodle,” he croaked and reached for his glasses. He turned to see that Anathema had already been up and Leo wasn’t in his crib.

“We should make crepes for Papa!” Tartan said as they bounced next to him on the bed.

“Ha! I already had that idea.” Newt gently knocked his buddy over with a pillow.

Tartan stood on a stepstool to help Newt with the washing up after breakfast. They’d been quite the personal assistant all morning. They helped Anathema change and dress Leo, kept the tot occupied for a while, helped make breakfast, brushed Anathema’s hair and gave their opinions on how she should style it - “Me and you can have matching plaits!” Now, they hummed to themself as they washed a fork.

“Oh look, Uncle Noop and Aunt Natty!” They pointed to the window above the sink, flinging suds against the glass. “You have snowdrops in your garden. Can I go draw them?”

Anathema brought a very bundled up Tartan outside to draw in the garden while Newt finished cleaning up. He carefully packed crepes into a container and placed them into an insulated container. When Tartan came back inside, the front of their coat covered in dirt from laying on their belly to draw, he pulled their coat off and told them to head to the loo before they set out for the birth center. He and Anathema worked together to get as much of the dirt off the coat as possible.

Anathema unlocked the doors to the birth center and switched on the lights. They had rescheduled all morning appointments and would not be formally opening for patients until early afternoon. Anathema herself would not be working - the other midwives would be covering all appointments. Crowley’s head popped out of the birth suite as they made their way to it.

“Hey guys.” He scooped a happy Tartan up and gave them a big kiss.

They found Aziraphale sitting up in bed. He wore a Tartan robe over a soft, cross front nursing bra in a robin’s egg blue with delicate white flowers on it. Austen was nursing and Aziraphale declared that the babe had “an excellent appetite” when Anathema inquired. Newt noticed that he and Crowley looked a little tired, but rather resplendent. Both of them glowed with happiness and there was a gentle softness to their expressions. Tartan was immediately at Aziraphale’s side for many hugs and kisses. Aziraphale told them that Madame Paddles had been “a most important help overnight,” which made the four year old proud.

Crowley pulled clothes out of their overnight bag for Aziraphale while he talked shop to Anathema about Aziraphale’s recovery so far, which sounded like it had been going well. Newt dashed to the kitchen to grab some paper plates and served up crepes and fresh fruit. Both Aziraphale and Crowley had already eaten that morning thanks to Newt’s stocking of the fridge and these crepes were a special added celebratory bonus. When the family left today, he and Anathema would head back to Jasmine Cottage and he’d bake a “welcome baby” cake to bring to the South Downs cottage later that evening, where they’d stay to help for a few days before an expected snowstorm rolled in.

“Daddy, you look so pretty!” Tartan said while they skipped around the room.

“You look smashing as well, Bug.” He held their hand and gave them a little twirl.

Newt marvelled at how fluid Crowley could be. Yesterday, he arrived at the birth center in black ripped jeans, snakeskin boots, a simple black button down shirt, his silver tie, and a black blazer. He looked very much like he did when Newt first encountered him many years ago when they stopped the end of the world, save for the length and deeper red of his hair. Today, he dressed in a long black skirt that fell to the tops of his lilac combat boots and a cropped jumper in a rich teal. Newt knew it had been knit by Aziraphale. The colour was a stunning contrast to the red of Crowley’s hair, which hung in loose curls past his shoulders. The deep V-neck of the jumper revealed dark red chest hair and the fact that Crowley’s chest, though much smaller than it had been at the height of nursing Tartan, was forever changed by pregnancy and nursing, small curves still visible.

Tartan, fashion maven, was dressed like…well, like Tartan. Tiny rainbow combat boots hid mismatched socks. Their blazing gold leggings sparkled in the light, a perfect compliment to the black, red, and grey tartan sweatshirt they wore under a bright green cardigan with a hood that was shaped like a dinosaur head and had little plush spikes going all down the back. Their hair was a simple french-braid to match Anathema, with their own addition of what may have been two dozen small butterfly-shaped hair clips in a variety of colours. Anathema had let them borrow her make up and they kept the look simple with purple eyeshadow and a demure hot pink lip.

Crowley helped Aziraphale to one final trip to the loo while Anathema held Austen, Tartan at her side on the little purple sofa. When they emerged, Aziraphale shyly gripped his robe to keep it closed in front of him. Not so shy were his words, informing everyone that Crowley convinced him that mesh knickers would not be pleasant for the ride home and instead an adult nappy was the way to go.

“Wore them for days after Tartan was born. Can’t be beat.”

Crowley carefully helped Aziraphale into a pair of grey joggers - joggers that Crowley had picked out because they looked as close to regular trousers as possible and were soft and easy to get on - and a very soft handknit light blue jumper. One would be surprised to find that it had not been knit by Aziraphale, but, rather, Crowley when he was working through the nervous energy he frequently built up while taking care of a gravid angel. Aziraphale whined as Crowley knelt to tie the angel’s shoes.

“Trainers. I will miss many things about pregnancy, but trainers will not be one of them. At no point in the Book of Aziraphale do I wear trainers,” he huffed.

“I dunno, Angel, perhaps if I write a book, I’ll draw a picture of you wearing trainers on the cover,” Crowley teased. He stood up and leaned in to kiss Aziraphale on the lips. “You look mighty adorable and, lucky for you, I don’t write books.”

Tartan helped change Austen’s nappy before putting them in a plain white bodysuit under a pair of cream and green tartan trousers - they had been Tartan’s when they were a newborn - and a very small, yet perfectly fitting, spring green jumper with matching booties and hat. “I helped Papa pick this yarn for you,” they said brightly to their new sibling. Wrapped in the rainbow blanket, Austen was placed in Aziraphale’s arms and they all made their way outside.

Crowley kept an arm around Aziraphale and slowly walked with him to the Bentley, where Newt had already placed their bags in the boot. Crowley had put down a soft blanket for Aziraphale to sit on in the back. It was a tight squeeze next to the two carseats, but that is what Aziraphale preferred. Newt helped Tartan into their carseat while Crowley buckled the baby in from the other side. The rainbow blanket was now laid on top of Austen. Newt watched Aziraphale wince as he sat down, though that was short lived as Crowley fussed and wouldn’t let Aziraphale lift a finger - he seatbelted the angel in and gave him one more kiss before closing the car door.

“We’ll be down tonight with dinner,” Anathema said while hugging Crowley goodbye, Leo planted on her hip and grabbing at Crowley’s hair..

They waved as the Bentley roared awake with a happy honk and pulled out of the carpark and to the short driveway leading from the birth center. They could see Tartan blowing kisses through the tiny back window and sent some back in return. Crowley’s hand waved out of the window as the Bentley turned and disappeared. Newt took Leo, who was reaching for him, and balanced him in one arm.

“At any point in your life did you believe you’d stand on the front stoop of a birth center, owned by your wife and named for a witch your ancestor hunted, holding your son, while watching a Bentley full of angels - and I include our demon in that, no matter what he says - drive away after witnessing one of them give birth?” Anathema grabbed his hand and smiled up at him.

“Never in a million years. I am so happy that I get to experience it. Their world is unimaginable, but I’m happy to be part of it and even happier that you and Leo are here to share it with me.” He put a hand on her cheek, looked into the eyes glistening behind her glasses, and leaned down to kiss her, much to the delighted squeals of their son.