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The South Downs cottage was originally supposed to be a haven of ultimate peace - a place where Aziraphale could occupy himself with his library without customers bothering him, and where Crowley could take week-long naps if he felt like it. And of course, a place where they could indulge in each other’s company as much as they wanted to without disturbance.
However, that exact sort of indulgence had resulted in Toni, their four-year-old angel-demon hybrid. Her arrival had changed the original plan of peaceful retirement somewhat. Crowley had affectionately nicknamed her ”The Menace”. She was a small, chaotic blend of them both, with Crowley’s reckless impulsiveness and Aziraphale’s ability to weaponize irresistible puppy eyes. With this combination, her parents didn’t stand a chance.
Most inconveniently of all, she also seemed to possess an almost supernatural ability to sense whenever said parents were trying to have a moment alone.
It was a rainy summer afternoon, and Aziraphale and Crowley were tucked away in the library, while Toni was supposedly deeply engrossed in a cartoon in the next room. Aziraphale was settled on the tartan sofa, a rare copy of an 18th-century poetry journal in his hand. Crowley was stretched out beside him, his head resting comfortably in the angel’s lap, looking up with a lazy grin which made it clear he had something other than poetry on his mind.
"You know, angel," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as he reached up to twirl a strand of Aziraphale’s hair. "With the Menace glued to the telly over there… We could go upstairs. Lock the door."
Aziraphale flushed a delightful shade of pink, and set his book down on the coffee table. "Oh? And what exactly did you have in mind, my dear?"
Crowley sat up, leaning in closer. He glanced toward the door, then back to the angel, his grin turning more fiendish.
”How about…” he whispered, ”we make another one? Give the kid someone to play with.”
”Oh.” Aziraphale’s eyes went wide, his hands fluttering up to his waistcoat. ”Really? Y-you really mean… Already?”
Crowley threw his hands up in a casual shrug. ”Why not? It’s a brilliant plan! Create another chaotic toddler to distract the first one!”
Aziraphale’s flustered expression morphed into something more skeptical. ”Oh, yes, brilliant plan, indeed. And I suppose when those two grow tired of each other, your solution will be to make a third? By next century we’ll have a small angel-demon army occupying the South Downs.”
Crowley merely cocked an eyebrow, his grin turning a little more fiendish. ”Well, we’ve got to do something with eternity, angel”, he purred seductively.
His attempt to pull the angel into a kiss was abruptly interrupted.
Thwack.
A neon-pink plastic unicorn with a glittery purple mane shot through the air, and struck Crowley squarely in the temple, before dropping into his lap. Crowley froze, his eyes narrowing to tiny yellow slits as the pink toy sat victoriously on his denim-clad thigh.
From the hallway, the patter of tiny, frantic footsteps echoed against the hardwood floor, followed immediately by a small, breathless voice.
"Daddy! Papa! Did you see! Sparkles can fly!"
“Unicorns don’t fly”, Crowley snarled, rubbing his temple.
Entirely unbothered by her father's tone, Toni clambered straight up onto the sofa between them in a whirlwind of messy red curls.
“They doooo!” she insisted excitedly.
Crowley picked up the neon-pink plastic offense by its glittery tail, holding it at arm's length. “Listen to me, half-pint. Pegasus? Flies. Griffins? Fly. Unicorns? Land-dwelling equines. No wings.” He dropped the toy on the sofa.”Gravity wins.”
Toni frowned. “But you just saw her fly!”
“I saw her attack me”, Crowley groused.
Aziraphale extended a tender hand to smooth down the girl’s wild curls. “Sweetheart, I know Sparkles meant no harm, but perhaps she should apologize?”
Toni looked from Aziraphale’s encouraging face back to Crowley. Her lower lip gave a tiny quiver before she reached out, took the unicorn, and made the toy bow deeply against his knee.
"Sparkles says she's sorry for hitting your head, Daddy," Toni said in her softest, most angelic voice, looking up with big, glimmering eyes.
Crowley couldn’t look at her without instantly deflating. “Alright, fine. Apology accepted. But tell her to fly a bit more carefully, alright?”
Aziraphale gave him a sideways glance. “I don’t think someone who drives the way you do should be giving out safety instructions”, he muttered.
Crowley’s jaw dropped, and he sat up straight, offended. “There’s nothing wrong with my driving! The Bentley and I have a perfect understanding of the space-time continuum. It’s not my fault humans can’t handle that.”
Aziraphale merely hummed as he looked down at Toni. “You see, sweetheart? This is why we don’t take advice from Daddy on speed limits.”
Toni nodded solemnly, absorbing the information. “Daddy goes zoom.”
“Yes, darling. Exactly. Daddy goes zoom. Right through red lights,” Aziraphale sighed.
Crowley groaned, slumping back against the sofa. He didn’t understand how the conversation had suddenly turned from correcting an unruly child to Aziraphale nagging at him about his driving. It seemed like the kid and the angel somehow always teamed up against him.
Either way, the magic of their brief private moment had vanished, and it would be several hours before they had any chance of conjuring it back.
*
That chance finally came at 10:00 PM. The Menace was tucked into bed after a bedtime story, and Crowley and Aziraphale retreated to their bedroom. Crowley had changed into his black silk pajamas, and Aziraphale was in his nightshirt, sitting on the edge of their king-sized bed, looking at Crowley expectantly.
"Right", Crowley said, locking the bedroom door with a sharp click. "No distractions. No unicorns."
He joined Aziraphale on the bed, wrapping his arms around the angel’s waist and pulling him into a hungry kiss.
“Crowley”, the angel breathed, as the demon started trailing kisses down his neck. “Did- did you really mean…? Ah- what you said?”
Crowley paused, slightly out of breath.
“That I’d like another one?” he growled. Then he smirked. “Absolutely. And I clearly recall you saying you enjoyed being knocked-up.”
A half-gasp, half-giggle escaped Aziraphale’s lips. “Really, dear, your phrasing is terrible. But yes. I did. And if you’re sure”, he said, tugging at Crowley’s hair just a little, as the demon went for his neck again, “then yes. I’d like that very much.”
Crowley flashed him a radiant grin, before pushing Aziraphale onto his back and resuming his ministrations on the angel’s neck. Aziraphale’s hands gripped Crowley’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Crowley’s hands began to work on the buttons of Aziraphale’s nightshirt—
Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.
They both froze.
From the bottom of the locked bedroom door came a faint scratching noise.
“Daddy?” A small, muffled voice called out. “Papa?”
Crowley dropped his forehead onto Aziraphale’s shoulder with a muted shriek of frustration. Aziraphale gave him a sympathetic pat on the back.
“Yes, sweetheart?” the angel called back. “Did you have a bad dream?”
“No”, the muffled voice replied. “But I think there’s a monster under my bed. A bad monster. Not a cool one, like Daddy.”
Crowley sat up and his yellow eyes softened just a fraction. With a snap of his fingers, the door unlocked and swung open.
Toni was standing there in her footie pajamas, dragging a stuffed duck by its wing.
A moment later, the bed was thoroughly occupied. Aziraphale was propped against the headboard, a tired yet loving smile on his lips. Crowley was lying on his side, propping his head up with one hand, looking down at the small bumps in the middle of the mattress.
Toni was fast asleep, starfished horizontally across the bed, her fist shoved into Aziraphale’s thigh, and her foot digging into Crowley’s ribs. The duck was splayed out beside her in a similar position.
Crowley let out a sigh of defeat. “We have no authority in this house, do we?”
Aziraphale gave him a soft look. “Come now, dear. We’ll try again tomorrow.”
*
It turned out that the problem persisted the next day. Toni’s “interruption radar” seemed to be growing even stronger. She discovered that if she manifested a minor localized rainstorm inside the kitchen, his parents would instantly stop whatever they were doing—holding hands or exchanging kisses —to rush to the rescue. And now she insisted on sleeping in her parents’ bed because “there was more room for the duck”.
“Stupid over-sized plushie”, Crowley said through gritted teeth as he glared at the duck. “I rue the day I bought that for her.”
Aziraphale gave him a reprimanding look. “She loves it, Crowley. Please don’t say things like that.”
Crowley grumbled something inaudible and sank into his sheets.
Three weeks later, Crowley was slumped at the kitchen table, nursing an espresso and looking thoroughly defeated. Aziraphale was watching through the window as their child played in the garden.
“Angel, I love the little fiend,” Crowley groaned, rubbing his temples. “I do. But if I don’t get to have you properly soon, I think I’m going to discorporate.”
Aziraphale let out a scandalized gasp, setting down his teacup with a sharp clink. “Crowley! The window is wide open, she might hear you!”
Once the mandatory reprimand on language was out of the way, the angel's face softened, and a distinctly mischievous spark lit his eyes. “Though... I do know what you mean. And I believe I’ve come up with a solution.”
Crowley looked up, skeptical. "I'm all ears."
"We are getting a babysitter!” the angel beamed. “We’ll stay in a hotel for one night. Just the two of us.”
Crowley blinked. "A babysitter? Angel, she’s half demon, half angel, and a hundred percent menace. We can’t just hire some teenager from the village."
"I am well aware," Aziraphale said, his smile widening. "Which is why I’ve already contacted someone uniquely qualified."
*
An hour later, a sleek, modern car pulled up the gravel driveway. The door opened, and out stepped Anathema Device, wearing a practical knitted sweater and carrying a tote bag full of occult books, alongside Newt Pulsifer, who looked mildly terrified.
"You sure about this?" Crowley whispered nervously, watching them approach through the window.
"They survived the Apocalypse, Crowley. They can handle a four-year-old", Aziraphale reassured him, opening the front door with a warm welcome.
Toni was currently climbing on the wall in a vaguely demonic manner, and she eyed the humans curiously.
Anathema walked to her, greeting her with a warm smile.
"Hello, Antonia", Anathema said, entirely unphased by the wall-climbing. "It is so lovely to meet you. I heard you like unicorns. I brought you a book on them and other kind of magical creatures.”
Toni’s eyes went wide. He dropped to the floor with a soft thud. "You’re a witch, aren’t you? Can we cast spells?”
"In the garden, and only minor ones," Anathema agreed solemnly.
Newt was hovering beside Anathema. "And I brought board games!” he offered helpfully. But Toni was completely enthralled by the fact that a real witch was going to teach her magic and apparently could only see Anathema.
Crowley looked over at Aziraphale. "Looks like they’re getting along brilliantly."
But Aziraphale was looking at their daughter with soft, watery warmth in his eyes, and Crowley started quickly to usher him towards the door before he’d change his mind.
*
They didn't go far—just a romantic, secluded inn tucked away in a quiet corner of a nearby town. The room featured a fireplace, a massive four-poster bed, and, most importantly, absolutely no toys, no toddlers, and no distractions.
The moment the door closed behind them, Crowley didn't waste a second. He snapped his fingers, performing several small miracles at the same time: locking the door, closing the curtains, and lighting the fire.
"Finally," Crowley growled, his voice a low, dark purr. He turned around, grabbing Aziraphale by the lapels and pulling him into a heated kiss.
When they parted, Aziraphale let out a breathy laugh. "Oh, my. You were desperate, weren't you?"
"Centuries of pining were nothing compared to this torment", Crowley muttered against his lips.
Aziraphale chuckled. “Aren’t you being a tad dramatic, my dear? Although I have to admit…” He let out a soft moan as Crowley’s lips found that certain spot on his neck again. “It has felt like… an eternity…”
With another impatient miracle, Crowley removed their clothing, pushing the angel onto the bed. Aziraphale let out a soft, shuddering sigh as Crowley’s familiar weight pressed him down into the crisp, cool sheets of the hotel bed.
“Oh, darling”, he breathed. “Oh, how I’ve missed this.”
The night was spent on tireless, frantic love-making. By morning, the feverish energy had softened into a lazy, blissful warmth. The bedsheets were a tangled mess, and the sun was filtering softly through the edges of the curtains.
Aziraphale was curled up against Crowley’s side, smiling contently, his head resting on the demon’s bare chest. Every trace of tension had drained from the demon, who was now looking entirely sated, a blissful smile on his face, his hair a tousled mess across the pillow.
“Well”, he said, his voice a deep, lazy rumble. “If that didn’t do the trick, nothing will.”
Aziraphale giggled, tracing a slow circle on the demon’s chest. “Well… We certainly gave it our best effort.”
Suddenly, a floorboard creaked outside in the hotel hallway.
Both of them instantly stiffened. Crowley’s eyes snapped open. Aziraphale automatically sat up, pulling the duvet up to his chin.
They waited, frozen.
...But nothing happened. Just the faint sound of a hotel maid pushing a cleaning cart further down the hall.
Slowly, Crowley let out a long breath, relaxing again. "Right. We’re not home.”
Aziraphale let out a soft chuckle as he settled back down into Crowley's arms. "Goodness. I suppose it's a bit like phantom limb syndrome, isn't it?"
Crowley looked up at the ceiling, a wry, fond smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Yeah. It’s quiet. Really quiet. Almost... too quiet?"
Aziraphale smiled, shifting so he could look into Crowley's eyes. "Are you telling me, Crowley, that you actually miss our little terror?"
"Oh, you know me, angel. I thrive on chaos," Crowley sniffed defensively, though his eyes gave him away. "It's just... the bed feels too big without a foot shoved in my ribs."
Aziraphale melted, leaning up to press a tender kiss to Crowley’s jaw. "Well. Soon enough we’ll be back to the flying unicorns and spontaneous rainstorms.” Then he peered up at the demon through his eyelashes. “But… we still have two hours before check-out.”
Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Another round? Angel. You’re insatiable.”
Aziraphale was already climbing on top of the demon, straddling his hips.
“Hmm”, he said, looking rather pleased with himself. “Look who’s talking. I have some rather… compelling physical evidence right beneath me that you aren’t, in fact, any less insatiable than I am.”
Crowley let out a choked sound as the angel rolled his hips, his hands automatically coming to grip Aziraphale’s waist. “Fuck- angel.”
They made exceptionally good use out of those two hours.
*
When they arrived back at the cottage, in the early afternoon, they were greeted by an exhausted Anathema and Newt, and Toni who was now convinced that her calling was to be a witch. She ran to the door to meet them, wearing a black towel as a cape and a self-made cardboard witch hat, excitedly showing them pictures of potion ingredients in one of Anathema’s occult books.
“Can we go find spiders in the garden? Please?”
Anathema gave her parents a helpless shrug from an armchair.
“Spiders, eh?” Crowley squatted down to Toni’s level, a fond grin on his face. “And what do you need them for?”
“The big potion”, Toni announced dramatically. “To make Duck a real duck!”
Crowley glanced up at Aziraphale, suddenly worried at the prospect of having an actual live duck in their bed. But Aziraphale’s eyes were shining with absolute delight as he gazed at their daughter.
“Oh, how remarkably creative!” he cooed. “She really takes after you so much, Crowley!”
“Well, I sure wouldn’t bring aquatic birds to our bed”, Crowley grumbled.
Aziraphale merely chuckled, adjusting the lop-sided witch hat on Toni’s head. “Would Madam Witch care for some afternoon tea with biscuits?”
Toni instantly put the book down and nodded eagerly, following her Papa to the kitchen.
“One mention of baked goods and the whole witch ritual is dropped”, Crowley muttered to himself (even though Anathema and Newt could hear him and exchanged amused glances). “And he says she takes after me.”
*
The question of whether or not their hotel getaway had achieved the desired result was answered some weeks later, when Crowley found Aziraphale sobbing while folding laundry.
“Angel?” he asked, freezing at the doorway, his heart rate instantly picking up a frantic, hammering pace.
Aziraphale stared down at his hands where he was cradling a lone red sock. Tears were running down his face and he looked absolutely crushed.
“It’s… it’s just so sad”, he sniffled. “I can’t find its partner.”
Crowley’s panic was replaced by deep confusion. “What?”
Aziraphale held out the mismatched sock, eyes glistening with new tears. “I have lost the other sock! It went through the cycle all alone! Look how lonely it looks!”
“It’s alright, angel”, the demon said, in a tone that didn’t sound convinced that anything actually was alright. “I don’t think socks have feelings.”
“You don’t know what!” the angel cried.
Crowley sighed, and pulled him into an embrace. Aziraphale buried his face into his shoulder, his body shaking with muffled sobs that were entirely too heavy for the situation. Crowley rubbed slow, soothing circles into Aziraphale’s back, his fingers sinking into the soft wool of the angel’s cardigan. This whole situation gave him a strong sense of deja vu. Of another time when the angel had been weeping into his shoulder over nothing a few years ago.
Then he thought of this morning, when the angel had slept uncharacteristically late, only to wake up and complain that Crowley’s freshly brewed espresso smelled "absolutely foul”.
Crowley’s yellow eyes went wide, and his hand froze on Aziraphale’s back. A wide grin slowly spread across his face.
He slowly pulled back just enough to look down at his partner. Aziraphale was dabbing at his pink nose with his handkerchief, but the sobbing had subsided.
“Angel,” Crowley said. “When was the last time you checked…? You know.”
Aziraphale blinked. “Oh. Well, I suppose I haven’t checked yet. I was rather hoping some unmistakable sign would–”
He stopped. His eyes grew incredibly round as he stared at the grinning demon, speechless.
“Might be a good time to check”, Crowley said.
Aziraphale’s hand drifted downward, flattening over his lower stomach.
The room fell into a breathless silence.
Aziraphale felt it. And as he felt it, Crowley felt it too. A faint yet unmistakable, ethereal-occult spark of life.
Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. He looked up at Crowley, eyes bright, a radiant smile spreading across his face.
“Crowley...” he breathed, his voice barely a whisper. “We did it.”
“We absolutely did”, Crowley said, the pure joy in his face mixing with pride. “Knew we would.” He took Aziraphale’s hand and pressed a kiss onto the back of his palm.
Aziraphale let out a breathless, watery laugh. He turned his hand over, tangling his fingers securely with Crowley’s, anchoring himself to the demon who had helped him create another wonderful miracle.
“Come on, dear. Let’s go tell our little witch her coven is getting an extension."