Archive of Our Own

1.

Just like love, pure and unadulterated joy was something Aziraphale was able to sense as an angel. It was one of his favorite things, even though he had learned to tune it out quite some time ago, dulling the flashes of excitement to unnoticeable pings on his ethereal radar. He’d decided when they moved to the cottage several years ago that he had no reason to do so anymore. They lived far enough outside town that the villagers wouldn’t register, so the only joy he could feel (and really ever wanted to feel) was Crowley’s. 

And, oh , Crowley’s joy was intoxicating. He’d felt more of it in the last few years here in their cozy home near the chalk cliffs of the South Downs than he’d felt in all of their time together before moving. Thankfully, Crowley lived mostly in a state of constant, pleasant contentment rather than surging joy, otherwise Aziraphale would’ve had to continue tuning the emotion down. But the pulsing in his chest the day Crowley had discovered the pregnancy had nearly knocked him to his feet, wave after wave coming from the upstairs water closet before Crowley had bounded down the stairs to fling himself into the angel’s arms. 

About halfway through the pregnancy, Crowley had complained of his chest becoming horrendously tender. The poor dear was often tired and achy, the addition of the baby’s weight straining his serpentine spine, which was quite attuned to carrying only the weight of Crowley (who was historically no bigger than a particularly sturdy tree branch) and struggled to accommodate the increased workload. However, this did not stop the hormones of the second trimester from causing Crowley to become absolutely starved for the type of attention only Aziraphale could give him. Despite his aches, Crowley had begged one night for Aziraphale to fuck him on a veritable mountain of pillows to reduce strain, only to yelp when just one of Aziraphale’s fingers brushed over his chest and nipple. 

Aziraphale had apologized profusely, cupping his hand under Crowley’s chin to press light kisses across the tightly knit brow. But Crowley’s mind had been yanked elsewhere, grabbing Aziraphale by the wrist and pulling it to where he could see, using his other hand to swipe at his own jaw. Both his own hand and the finger Aziraphale had touched him with were ever so slightly damp. Crowley’s head had whipped down to look at his own chest. Aziraphale, being Aziraphale, began to panic immediately at the sight of Crowley’s tears, frantically apologizing again because he’d known Crowley had mentioned they were sore, oh he really hadn’t meant to touch, his hands were just on their way elsewhere and—

Aziraphale’s racing thoughts stopped in their tracks when Crowley reverently swiped his own thumb across his other nipple, hissing at the contact, but giving Aziraphale a wobbly smile as he rubbed colostrum between thumb and forefinger. It was a fear Crowley had already mentioned once before, in passing as if trying not to let on how much the possibility bothered him, that he might not be able to feed the baby with milk of his own because he was a demon, meant to be damned and hollow. The pure joy of a terrible fear assuaged grasped Aziraphale’s heart tightly as they had tearfully gone back to the evening’s original activity, pressing smiling kisses into each other’s lips.

After months of anticipation, the birth went beautifully. Their darling Evelyn was brought into the world in the wee hours of a rainy September morning. Aziraphale had been ecstatic when Crowley admitted to liking the old-fashioned name, on the agreement that Eve was a suitable nickname. Poor Crowley, exhausted from a day and a half of labor, collapsed backwards onto the pillows, swiping a finger through Eve’s mouth to clear her airway for great, wailing cries that brought tears to the eyes of both angel and demon.

She settled quickly once a blanket was over her back, trapping the heat from Crowley’s skin. The afterbirth wasn’t too far behind and Aziraphale was very happy to take care of the mess and let it be gone from their bed. Crowley simply watched Eve become more and more aware, little hands fisting against his sternum and tangling with his knotted and sweaty tumble of auburn curls while strong legs he’d only felt from the inside pushed on the top of his deflated belly. He let her root about, waiting to see if he needed to intervene with the age-old instinctual crawl towards sustenance that he still hoped desperately he could give her from his body. 

In the end, she only needed the barest hint of help latching onto a nipple before settling in for the first feed. And Crowley could feel it, feel that she was indeed able to take what she needed from him. He was not too damned, not too hollow. He was enough for her, for the physical manifestation of his and Aziraphale’s love, a person for them to pour their hearts into. Aziraphale only held Crowley to his side and watched him feed their precious Eve, letting himself be consumed by Crowley’s overwhelming waves of joy. 

2.

The itch to leave the house won just before the six week mark. Crowley had been struggling with feeling cooped up but not feeling ready to take the baby out but also not feeling ready to leave the baby with Aziraphale to have a quick trip out alone. He knew Aziraphale would take perfect care of Eve, of course! But the idea of leaving them both , even in the safety of their nest, made his skin crawl. 

And so it was that the family had their first real outing, a short drive to the village for an early dinner at a little bistro that even Crowley enjoyed the food at. Not the fine dining they used to frequent in London, but a comfy place where they could sink into conversation in their own bubble.

After not being driven for several weeks, the Bentley had guessed exactly why and had taken it upon herself to add the necessary components for strapping a car seat in the back. Crowley trailed a hand over the top of the door and muttered thanks as he stepped back from putting Eve in the convoluted contraption of a modern safety seat while Aziraphale slid into the passenger side, holding the adorable little coat they’d put on her once they arrived. Crowley hadn’t realized what a production leaving the house would be, especially to just go down the road. 

As much as the fuss did frazzle Crowley a bit, he very begrudgingly admitted to Aziraphale that it was nice , them walking down the main road of the quaint town closest to the cottage, pram strolling along without daring to hitch while Eve slept away inside in her tiny burnt orange coat and hand-knitted hat. Aziraphale was the usual sucker for autumn aesthetics, but it had certainly grown on Crowley in their years living outside the city. So much so that his wardrobe contained colors other than black and he actually wore them, like the deep forest green dungarees he wore over a black long-sleeve nursing shirt for their supper. Eve had fed right before they left, but with how he and Aziraphale tended to monopolize restaurant tables for hours just talking and laughing about nothing, it was unlikely she’d stay asleep the whole time. 

He just hadn’t expected the fussing to begin right as they sat down. 

“Isn’t that what you said a hungry cry sounds like? Goodness, didn’t she just eat a half hour ago?” Aziraphale asked.

Not wanting to disturb other diners (though they could certainly come speak to him personally if they had an issue with his baby), Crowley quickly pulled Eve from where her carrier was wedged carefully between the table and the back of the booth seat as Aziraphale gave the waiter their drink orders.

“Yep, that’s a hungry cry. You’re getting better at telling them apart, angel.” Crowley answered, holding Eve closely to soothe her first before getting ready to feed. “And yeah, we did a quick one before we left, but she should be at another growth spurt so it seems like we’ll be back to cluster feeding for a few days. Isn’t that right, my little ladybird? Growing like a weed, you are.”

The baby’s first growth spurt several weeks prior had been…turbulent, to say the least. Aziraphale did not technically need sleep, but he had come to appreciate it in their slower lifestyle. Crowley was used to sleeping almost every night. So when Eve had cluster fed around three weeks, Aziraphale wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Crowley so tired. Aziraphale had been able to get her to take a bottle of pumped milk here and there but, for the most part, both she and Crowley preferred breastfeeding. It soothed them both, not to mention relieved the pressure of Crowley’s excess supply without the hassle of pumping or preparing a bottle in the dead of night. 

But Aziraphale felt such horrible guilt on nights when Eve would simply refuse the bottle and Crowley would realize he would not be falling back asleep while Aziraphale took care of it. Crowley swore he didn’t need to worry over it, that it’s just how it was and it couldn’t be helped, but Aziraphale insisted on staying up with him for every feed to bring him whatever he needed. They’d work on it, look into different bottle nipples and whatnot, so Aziraphale could feel like he was helping as much as he wanted to and Crowley could get a much deserved break. They’d been a team on everything else, they’d promised to stay a team for this adventure as well. 

Unhooking one side of his dungarees and parting the opening in his shirt, Crowley expertly latched the baby with ease, already practiced and confident, and picked up their conversation where they’d left off before being sat. The waiter returned with their drinks and stuttered over his words after taking their order.

“Ma’am, would—er, would you like a cover? We keep some on hand, just in case.” 

Crowley paid him barely enough attention to wave it off with a polite enough “no, thank you.” 

“Well, do let me know if you change your mind—”

“We won’t be needing one. Thank you.” Aziraphale stepped in firmly before Crowley could even turn a displeased glare on the waiter.

He scurried off, red in the face. Aziraphale turned back to Crowley with a smile and reached for his hand across the table, while Crowley laughed. “We should come out more often. You know how I love making arseholes uncomfortable.” 

Sure enough, Eve’s suckling slowed much sooner than during a normal feeding. Crowley fixed his clothes and burped her before setting her back in her carrier, sleepy and content for the moment. But Crowley knew it wouldn’t last, as neither the session before they left home or that session had been terribly long. She lasted longer than Crowley expected based on the three week cluster feeding, nearly 30 minutes, before the whimpering started again as he brought a heaping forkful of pasta to his mouth. If there was one thing Crowley could say about breastfeeding, it was that he couldn’t remember a time he’d been so keen on eating and drinking something more substantial than wine, coffee, and dark chocolate. 

After resituating Eve at his other breast, Crowley tucked back in, taking a healthy swig of water when Aziraphale wordlessly pushed the glass towards him with a cocked eyebrow. Crowley looked down occasionally to make sure the baby was still latched well and comfortable, but was able to lapse back into the easy flow of conversation and eating after each check. When their waiter approached the table again, they both assumed it was to simply ask how the meal was. But Aziraphale caught sight of the nervous pinch of his brow as he approached their table and put his fork down.

“Is the food alright over here?” he asked with an uncomfortable smile. Aziraphale agreed for them both as Crowley was distracted readjusting Eve, who had begun pulling at the nursing shirt in her tiny iron-strength fist. “Good, I’m glad to hear it. Um, ma’am, I am sorry, but I am going to ask that you cover up to feed your baby.”

Crowley’s head whipped up. “I’ve already said no to the cover. She doesn’t want to eat with a blanket on her head any more than I do.”

The waiter cleared his throat worriedly. “We do have a dedicated lactation space.”

“In the bathroom, no doubt. Not like I came here to eat too or anything.” Crowley challenged.

“It…is part of the restroom facilities, yes.”

“It’s not hurting anyone.” Aziraphale said as Crowley rolled his eyes and scoffed.

The waiter wrung his hands and his eyes flicked away. “A-another table has complained about the…indecency.” Crowley’s eyes flashed behind dark lenses at the table directly behind the waiter, the only one in their sightline with patrons at it, who were trying very hard to watch the discussion inconspicuously and failing. 

“There is nothing indecent about my husband feeding our daughter. If she were crying, the other table would complain about that as well. We aren’t going to sit here and let her go hungry either. So I suggest you tell those terribly offended people to use their autonomy to avert their eyes and mind their business.” Aziraphale said with an air of finality, picking his fork back up and haughtily ignoring the waiter’s stunned expression when he lingered at their table for a moment longer before silently retreating. 

Crowley’s grin was bright enough to lift Aziraphale’s annoyance. “Now that was hot, angel. Defending my right to whip a tit out for the baby while the baby’s still on it? What I wouldn’t give to see you pull up the ol’ flaming sword next time. ‘Course, I could’ve handled it myself but I quite liked seeing you do it for me,” he said with a wink over the top of his glasses. 

“I will admit,” Aziraphale said, blushing, “that it was perhaps the slightest bit self-serving as well. You know how much I love to see you taking care of her so confidently. She needs it, you enjoy doing it, I enjoy watching you enjoy it, and I couldn’t stand for him to judge you over something so natural. I’m certain they’ll leave us alone now. Though, speaking of watching, it does look like she’s rather done for the moment.”

Crowley looked down to see Eve had unlatched herself and barely had his nipple in her mouth anymore. “Oh, bloody—” he mumbled, hastily sorting himself, patting out a tiny burp, and setting her in the carrier again. He was more than happy to whip it out to feed but perhaps not to just leave it there while his food gets cold. 

True to Aziraphale’s word, they went unbothered throughout dinner and dessert. Eve only woke once more during dessert for another feed, which Crowley smugly noticed happened to coincide with the departure of the patrons who complained. He hoped the eyeful they got on their way out as Eve unlatched, milk drunk and hiccupping, was worth the price of admission.

Barely a minute after the party walked out and Crowley had begun fiddling with the car seat handle to ready it to reattach it to the pram, a short, frazzled looking blonde woman, wearing all black and holding a clipboard bustled over to their table.

“Hello there, I’m Georgia, the owner. I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’ve just had a party leaving complain to me that you were breastfeeding even after they told someone and I had to come apologize for their behavior and my waiter.” Aziraphale noticed that poor Georgia sounded considerably angrier than she looked. “He should’ve come to me right away and I would’ve dealt with them . Rest assured, you’re more than welcome to feed your baby in the dining area. I don’t use the lactation space myself, just not for me.” She said, laughing a bit nervously before noticing the check on the table. “Oh, absolutely not. This is on the house for your troubles.” 

“Oh, really, miss, that’s not—” Aziraphale tried to say but was cut off.

“Nope. I insist. Besides, I’ve seen you two in here loads before, just never had a moment to say hello. Figured baby had made their big debut when we hadn’t seen you in a while. Think of it as a delayed push present!” Georgia said, rushing off to deal with the bill.

Crowley and Aziraphale blinked at each other a moment after the whirlwind of the owner. 

“Well, that was very kind of her. I think she was holding back some rather choice words there.” Aziraphale laughed around the last bite of his dessert while Crowley pulled the pram frame out from under the table, ready to head out. Crowley took Eve from the carrier so Aziraphale could reattach it to the frame, which had given them trouble on every trial run.

“Here you go! With some tiramisu for the road after putting up with those wanke—rude…patrons.” Crowley looked up from the sleeping Eve to see Georgia coming back over with a box in her hands. “Oh! I have that same pram. Let me guess, it’s not catching right on one side?” Aziraphale nodded from where he was sat at the edge of the booth attempting to do it the human way. He’d been about two seconds from a miracle before Georgia had returned. 

“Here, let me. Riiiight here, this bit is really finicky when you try to attach both sides at once. But if you do it sort of sideways, one at a time…” Without even looking underneath at the latching mechanisms, Georgia attached the carrier with a loud click! and zero of the fuss Aziraphale and Crowley had put up with when they had put it together outside the Bentley for their pre-dinner stroll. 

Aziraphale thanked Georgia and introduced himself and Crowley properly as Crowley laid Eve back in the carrier and covered her with her little sage green blanket for the walk back to the car. Crowley didn’t look away from his darling as he adjusted her hat but smiled widely to himself at hearing the woman coo kindly when Aziraphale told her their daughter’s name. The owner apologized once more, shoving the takeaway box into Aziraphale’s hands, and told them she looked forward to seeing them again. 

“Have a good night, you two. And congrats, you’re doing a great job, I can tell. Flag me down next time you’re in, I’d love to meet your little Evelyn when she’s not sacked out off milk.” Georgia waved them off, Crowley preening at the idea of a clearly experienced mother telling him he was doing a good job. As per usual, Aziraphale miracled their tip jar incredibly full, and they headed out into the blustery autumn air. Crowley linked his arm in Aziraphale’s as the angel pushed the pram down the sidewalk for a little evening wander.

“I like her. She’s gonna give that waiter the bollocking of a lifetime.” Crowley chuckled, tucking a hand into Aziraphale’s coat pocket. 

Aziraphale reached down to adjust Eve’s blanket and pull her cap tighter, ghosting a finger reverently over one squishy cheek. “Yes, I rather like her as well. It was very nice of her to show us the pram trick.”

“And send you off with that extra tiramisu I know you’ll devour when we get home.”

Aziraphale playfully nudged Crowley’s shoulder as they meandered, ambling down the street full of shops and window shopping until the sun had lowered enough below the horizon that they wanted Eve back indoors. They luckily left at the perfect time, as the familiar cries of a hungry baby started as they pulled up the drive. Try as he might to beat the clock, his let down won and Crowley found himself pulling off his absolutely soaked nursing shirt to quickly change into pajamas while Aziraphale changed Eve’s clothes and diaper as she fussed.

They settled on the sofa, Aziraphale with his tiramisu and Crowley with Eve at his chest. She fed for only five minutes, and stopped.

“Well, looks like we’ll be here a while, angel.” Crowley sighed, starting the first of what would be many, many burpings that night.

Aziraphale pulled the nursing pillow from where it was hooked over the back of the sofa. “Let’s get comfy then. We’ll make a lovely night of it.”

3.

Crowley loved to listen to Evelyn’s playful giggles as she ran about the garden while he worked. Just shy of her 2nd birthday, she was a rambunctious ball of curly ginger hair that played hard and tired herself out with little fuss. She slept through the night and went down for naps easily, but Crowley knew that was less the fact that she was an easy kid and probably better attributed to the magic of breastmilk.

Aziraphale was completely on board with Crowley’s desire to continue breastfeeding as long as Eve wanted. It worked for them this long, why not keep it going when there was no detriment to her health? She had learned how to ask for it and that sometimes the answer might be ‘no’ when it was time for big girl food and so it continued to work for them. Aziraphale adored waking in the morning to find Crowley downstairs with Eve, casually holding her on his lap like a little koala as she suckled away for the first part of her breakfast while Crowley ate his own, trying not to get toast crumbs in her hair. It was heart-wrenchingly domestic. Aziraphale had told him as much one night, quietly whispering sweet nothings into the skin of Crowley’s breasts. He hadn’t been entirely joking when he teased Crowley about keeping him barefoot and pregnant in their little Eden here in the Downs. It was meant to be something to get Crowley going. As it turned out, it got both of them going. One night led to another, which led to several more. Before they knew it, Crowley was threading his arms over Aziraphale’s shoulders at the vanity one evening with a wibbly smile, tearfully handing him another stick with two pink lines on it. 

They hadn’t told Eve just yet, young as he was. She wouldn’t be able to understand without more significant physical evidence. Even Aziraphale had to look hard to see Crowley’s bump underneath the loose gardening shirt, so Eve certainly wouldn’t have noticed it.  Aziraphale watched from the open doors of the sunroom as she ran alongside the neighbor’s cat, who had taken to visiting from a mile down the road, squealing happily when it pounced after giant grasshoppers in the bushes at the edge of the garden. Crowley had been out there for nearly two hours already, sorting seeds and planting  them in a miraculously tilled patch of land at the back corner of the space, and Eve had been out with him the whole time, so she was likely to tire soon for her afternoon nap. 

“Bye-bye, kitty!” she shouted after the calico when it hopped up and over the garden wall, its collar playing a little chime to say it was time to come home. Crowley looked up from filling the watering can at the sound, knowing she always got just a touch sad when her kitty friend had to leave. She had gotten remarkably good at self-soothing about the little things, a clear  hallmark that Aziraphale was the one teaching her a virtue like patience, but she still often sought Crowley’s breast for comfort. With her dietary needs being covered by big girl food and breastfeeding taking more of a supplemental role, comfort and closeness were really the main reasons she still nursed at all. She ran up to Crowley, arms in the air, and he whisked away the dirt on his skin and clothes at once to pull her close. 

“What’s the matter, baby?” Crowley asked, already rocking slightly.

“Kitty,” she mumbled, burying her face in Crowley’s neck. 

“Yes, love, kitty had to go home. We’ll see her again soon.” Crowley began walking towards the apple tree to have a seat against its trunk, a slow process with a toddler hanging on to his neck and the first inklings of a changing center of gravity. He saw Aziraphale about to come out to help, but waved him off with a thumbs up. He couldn’t hear them from the door, but Crowley knew Aziraphale would simply stand in silence and watch them for hours if he wanted, enamored at the sight of Crowley caring for their baby. It made Crowley feel so loved he sometimes shivered with it and watched in turn as Aziraphale shivered at the actual waves of love coming back to him in a feedback loop. 

Eve was flushed red from playing, rubbing sleepily at her eyes with one hand and tugging at Crowley’s shirt with the other. ‘ Ah, overtired again ’ Crowley thought, checking the time on his watch to see how imminent her nap was.

“Milk, Daddy.” Her little hand fisted in his shirt and she began to tear up, the first whimpers of sadness tearing Crowley’s heartstrings in half. He pulled his arm through his sleeve and rucked it up over his shoulder for good access. 

“Yes, sweetheart, of course you can have some milk. You just come right here and get comfy.” Crowley said, letting her splay as she wanted across his lap before clumsily bringing her mouth to his nipple. 

Aziraphale watched from the sunroom doors in awe as Crowley nursed their daughter right there in the middle of the garden, soothing her sadness away. It charmed Aziraphale to no end to see Crowley drop everything to care for their daughter, not a second thought to anything but her happiness. Aziraphale knew this chance, this ability he hadn’t thought he’d be allowed, was something Crowley cherished immensely. He could see it in the way Crowley leaned his head back against the tree and let the sunlight wash over his face, the way he looked down to where Eve drew from his body, gently smoothing his hand over her auburn curls. The way a beautifully unguarded and proud smile split across his face, one for nobody but himself.

Millennia of watching Crowley deny himself happiness, deny his love of humans, deny his soft spot for children and their curiosity, and his urge to care for something had gone by with Aziraphale as a witness. The plants had always been a scapegoat for his anger but also, Aziraphale had realized after once seeing Crowley treat a plant rather kindly, a placeholder to (frustratedly) care for when he couldn’t have Aziraphale. And when he finally could have Aziraphale, Crowley had so much love and desire to give and provide, he’d continued to pour the overflow of care into the garden, a place he wanted them to share, a place to call their own like the rest of the cottage. 

Aziraphale loved to simply watch Crowley thrive in this new era of their lives. The denial had finally come to an end, just as it had started, in a garden. The plants received stern lectures instead of raw-throated screeching. Aziraphale had been kissed breathless in the open air of their garden more times than he could begin to count. Crowley gave every ounce of his love to their daughter right there under their apple tree, where the universe and its creator could see his happiness. Caring for his family had beautifully slotted into place in Crowley’s nature where denial had lived for so long. 

With the way Eve’s hands drooped and flexed on Crowley’s belly and how he had to support her head from behind so it didn’t loll back, she wouldn’t go for long. He signaled to Aziraphale by tilting his head and putting his free hand under his cheek that naptime was sorely needed. Aziraphale nodded and came out to collect her, kneeling there by the pair until her eyes fluttered so much that Crowley went ahead and broke the latch, kissing her forehead and handing her off to the angel to carry up to her bed. 

Aziraphale noticed from her bedroom window after tucking Eve in that Crowley had fixed his shirt but made no move to get up, so he closed up the blinds and shut the door behind him silently before returning to the garden. Crowley smirked up at him, patting the ground for Aziraphale to join him, their tartan picnic blanket appearing underneath him with plenty of room for a guest.

“I might’ve overestimated my ability to get up by myself.” he said, leaning into Aziraphale’s side and turning his face up towards the patchy sunlight. 

Aziraphale chuckled, kissing the end of a long nose. “I thought that might be the case. I’d argue that help getting down might not have gone amiss either.” 

Crowley shrugged and shifted, pressing a hand above his chest and rubbing slightly. “Might need to pump this one. Not sure it can wait til bedtime. Hasn’t been drinking that much after dinner lately anyway.” 

Aziraphale waited. He knew what Crowley would say next, the offer that always came. 

“…unless you wanted to lend a hand with that too?”

Aziraphale smiled. “You know I could never deny you.”

4.

“Papa?”

Aziraphale jerked awake. There was a tiny person standing next to his side of the bed, pointed finger pulling away from where it had just jabbed him in between the eyes. Evelyn stood plaintively waiting for a response, worn duckling lovey hanging from her fist. Aziraphale spared a glance at the clock on his nightstand and fought not to groan aloud when he saw that it was 5:30 in the morning.

“Why are you up, darling? Do you feel okay?” He whispered.

She didn’t answer with words, only holding her arms up to be lifted to the bed. It wasn’t often she wanted to sleep in the big bed, usually snoozing right past when its usual occupants were already up for the day, so they indulged her when she did ask for morning snuggles. He laid her gently between himself and Crowley who, just a week or so out from his due date, was about ready to pop and looking forward to when it finally happened. 

“Papa, milk, peas.” She asked, bringing loosely bunched fingers to her mouth over and over to make sure he saw that, yes, she was very intelligent and knew how to sign for food, since her fine motor skills didn’t quite allow for ‘milk’ yet.

Aziraphale took the tiny hand in his and kissed it. “Okay, Eve, Daddy has milk. Be very quiet, Daddy’s asleep.” He reached over and unclasped the nursing camisole Crowley had worn to bed after putting Eve down then getting a bit of stimulatory help from his husband in the hopes they could send an eviction notice to the new baby. Eve settled on her side and nursed while Crowley slept on, tight shirt bulging out misshapenly now and again as the baby stretched for space in Crowley’s belly. 

Aziraphale couldn’t tear his eyes away. To see his husband caring for their family even in rest, one child at his breast while also going through the trial of growing another one…it was the most beautiful, most serene and still he’d ever seen Crowley. His love, who had been running and scared and paranoid for so long in their history together, had come to appreciate and indulge in the peacefulness of their family life out in the country. It was a gift he never expected to have. He never expected to be able to watch the first light of dawn creep in between the shutters and cast a pale blue glow over their shared room. Never expected to see Crowley’s gorgeous eyes as much as he did these days, dark lenses only delicately sat across the bridge of his nose on outings. Never expected to see him round with their baby , not once but twice. They had finally both come to terms with being able to have things they wanted because they deserved it. Deserved each other, and more. 

Eve’s eyes began to open more, alert and ramping up for the day. When she finally rolled back over to put her arms around Aziraphale’s neck, she asked, very diplomatically, for some ‘fwoot.’ Aziraphale chuckled and sat up with her, promising they could have some fruit with breakfast, and took her to get the day started. 

Crowley joined them a half hour later, one of Aziraphale’s sweaters stretched over his belly. He dropped a kiss on top of Eve’s head as she played with scramble on her highchair tray, and came to kiss Aziraphale good morning as well.

“So…who needed a tipple this morning? Because someone forgot to put the tit away.” Crowley said over coffee, casual as anything. Aziraphale nearly breathed in the dregs of his morning tea and coughed, Eve ignoring every moment of it for her cut up strawberries.

“Eve just woke quite early and wanted some time in the big bed before breakfast.” Aziraphale explained as he got up for more tea, pulling Crowley’s chair over towards Eve so he could possibly coerce her to eat more of the breakfast rather than play with it. 

“Daddy, Eve milk! Baby!” Eve squealed, holding a piece of strawberry out to Crowley, who ate it right from her fingers, causing her to squeal again and giggle.

“Yes, Evie-love, you did have milk this morning. Did you feel the baby in my tummy again?” Crowley asked, picking up her tiny spoon and getting a bit of scramble down after she nodded. “You and the baby can share the milk when they’re here, as long as you want. Anything for my ladybird.” Crowley smiled wistfully at Aziraphale as the angel brushed a hand along his middle on his way back from the kettle.

They both knew that she didn’t understand the concept of sharing yet and that that particular conversation might not be as idyllic as it seemed, but it was certainly a nice thought, the idea of both children needing his chest for nourishment and comfort. They would just assure Eve that she could still ask for milk when she wanted, that the new baby just needed it too. She hadn’t been asking for milk nearly as often as she used to, now that she was adjusted to not having scheduled feeding times, really only asking in the morning and before both nap and bedtime. It hurt Crowley, just a bit, to know she didn’t need him in that way anymore, could survive perfectly fine without milk. But it did calm him that she still sought him out for comfort and, soon enough, he’d have another to share that bond with. 

5.

They’d been right in assuming that the fanciful visions of Eve being perfectly happy to share Daddy’s milk were unrealistic. Despite the fact that she nursed only once a day at bedtime, maybe twice if she remembered to ask at naptime, the constant feedings of the new nearly three month old baby triggered some feelings of possessiveness not just over nursing, but Crowley’s time and attention. 

When Paloma “Poppy” Fell-Crowley made her appearance on a very snowy Valentine’s Day, Evelyn had been over the moon, enamored with the tiny new person that suddenly lived with them. She watched everything her parents did for the new baby, even trying to help, often imitating the quiet shushing Aziraphale and Crowley made while trying to calm fussiness. And for a while, Eve’s nursing habits had stayed the course. But despite the universe taking pity and giving them a second baby that had less issue taking a bottle of pumped liquid gold, a duty Aziraphale took great joy in, Poppy still had all the same cluster feeding tendencies Eve had at the same growth milestones. So when Poppy cluster fed for a few days at three weeks, six weeks, and now three months, Eve grew positively green with envy that the new baby suddenly got to be attached to her Daddy at all hours of the day. 

They tried to explain it all to her, that new babies need more milk than big girls. Unfortunately, it meant very little to her since the milk wasn’t what she really wanted, but the closeness with Crowley, and the two things in her mind were inextricably linked. As such, she started asking for very short feedings closer to her old schedule, four or five times a day whenever she saw Crowley’s arms Poppy-less. 

Crowley truly didn’t mind. To be quite honest, he was secretly a bit pleased that his first baby still wanted to be close with him, even if she didn’t know how to ask for it any other way than wanting to nurse. And he wanted to stick to his guns, to truly let her wean herself, not offering but not denying. The part he couldn’t stand was not the exhaustion and the constantly being clung to and drunk from like a milk buffet. No, it was seeing the annoyance on Eve’s face when he fed Poppy, the jealousy from one child to another. He knew she couldn’t help it, but he just desperately wished that she would understand he was there for them both .

The opportunity to at least get the ball rolling in a better direction presented itself on a lazy afternoon in the sunroom, warm and bright on one of the pleasant Spring days they got out in the country, as Aziraphale started dinner. Crowley had just sat down from spending some time with Poppy in the nursery while Aziraphale distracted Eve downstairs. With the way Eve had been jumping at the chance to feed the second Crowley put Poppy down, he needed to get some quality time in with their newest addition (oh, Someone, he hated how this sounded) away from their eldest. Sure enough, though, when Eve saw Crowley come down the stairs and lay Poppy out on her star-themed play mat with soft comets and planets swinging above her, she came bounding over to hop on the sofa and ask for milk, tucking in to have a snack while she watched bloody Peppa Pig on the telly, her weak and inconsistent suckling another tip off as to just how little she cared about the milk anymore. 

Crowley took the moment to lean his head back and rest. At this point, he could sleep through just about anything, even a mouth on his tit. He wasn’t sure how long he was able to simply keep his eyes closed and ears open, but he knew it wasn’t long enough. It was the gurgling whimper-turned-wail that hit his ears first, but the immediately following painful suckling and yank on the collar of his nursing shirt was the real rude awakening. 

“ Ow! Evelyn, love, be gentle , that hurts.” Crowley said, having to slip a pinky into the corner of her mouth, forcibly breaking her latch for the first time in ages. She normally minded her baby teeth so well, knew what a good, gentle latch felt like from years of nursing, but Crowley could see indents that would bruise in the coming days. The first sound out of her mouth was a wet, broken sob as great big tears fell from the corners of her stormy blue eyes, and the cries of ‘ Daddy, no, peas Daddy!’ had Crowley frantically calling for Aziraphale.

Aziraphale ran in and assessed the scene, grabbing Poppy and taking her to the kitchen to try and soothe her until Crowley could calm Eve down. Crowley started up a calming mantra of ‘ it’s alright’ and ‘I’ve got you’ until her heaving sobs slowed to sniffling, her hands no longer pulling harshly at his shirt but trying to ruck the material back out of the way, mouth open and searching, to keep nursing now that the baby was not in the room. 

“Hey, shhh, look at Daddy, sweetie, look at Daddy.” She turned the saddest eyes on him, red rimmed from crying. For the first time in ages with her, he silently grabbed his breast and touched the nipple to her top lip, encouraging a real, solid latch that might provide actual comfort compared to the loose hold she usually kept when latching herself just to use as a pacifier. Her suckling was strong and on the edge of frantic, as if she needed to prove that she needed milk too, as her eyes darted towards the kitchen where Poppy’s cries were worsening.

“Shhh, Evie, it’s okay, sloooow down. There we go, that’s better. Daddy’s not going anywhere, you can stay right there.” Crowley said, petting the back of her head. “You hear Poppy? She sounds hungry. Why don’t we let her come eat too?” He called for Aziraphale to come back, the disgruntled wails of the hungry baby getting louder with each step, despite Aziraphale’s constant rocking and shushing. 

“Grab the nursing pillow for me, would you, love?” Crowley said, slowly adjusting Eve so she didn’t worry she was being removed. After situating the ring around his right side so it wasn’t wedged between him and Eve, he made sure she was comfy sitting on his thigh, legs turned to the middle and being supported by an arm behind her back to keep her from dragging his tit to the other end of the sofa. He didn’t typically spring for holding either of his babies like a rugby ball, but for a first attempt at tandem nursing two very differently sized children, he figured it best to keep the new one tucked under his arm and out of accidental kicking range. 

Splitting the other side of his shirt, he gestured for Aziraphale to lay the baby backwards on the pillow and hold her there until Crowley got her to latch. And at long last, after more shifting than his exhausted body was pleased with, both his babies were peacefully coexisting at his chest. It was more than enough to bring Crowley to relieved tears, blinking rapidly up at the ceiling before the ceiling turned into Aziraphale’s face peppering kisses at his temples from his place standing behind the couch.

“It’s alright now, my love, don’t cry. You’re doing so well, Crowley, and you’re so beautiful like this. I’m so proud of you, darling.” Aziraphale whispered, one hand cupping the side of Crowley’s face while the other gently scraped through his hair from behind. “Do you want me to stay?”

Crowley laughed wetly, turning his head to press a kiss into the palm at his cheek. “No, no, it’s—” Crowley sniffled and promptly felt a tissue pressing around his eyes then under his nose, despite having no free hands. “Thanks, angel. I’m alright, really. Just got a little overwhelmed for a mo’. Go save dinner, this probably won’t be too long with the clustering, and Miss Eve already seems to be feeling a bit better. Just keep an ear out for us though.”

“Always.” Aziraphale murmured against his lips before drying one last year, giving him a lingering kiss, and retreating to the kitchen. Crowley sighed once more, keeping his head on a swivel to make sure no one seemed upset. Poppy wriggled a bit in the unfamiliar position but a finger stroking the shell of her ear kept her from getting too worked up about it. 

When he turned to look at Eve, he noticed she wasn’t trying to watch that stupid pig anymore, but had been attentively watching Poppy nurse with a hand resting on Crowley’s sternum in between them. She had watched Crowley carefully stroke the baby’s ear and reached her little hand out to imitate, mussing up Poppy’s fine blonde hair right down the middle of her head. 

“See? She just needs to eat too. You like being close to Daddy and don’t need much milk anymore. She needs lots of milk right now, and it helps her feel better just like you. You feel better now, don’t you?” Crowley asked Eve, giving her a moment to nod as she mashed on his breast like she did at Poppy’s age. “It’s okay for big girls to want Daddy, but Miss Poppy needs me too.”

Crowley wasn’t so delusional to think every word would get through to Eve, but the glimmer of what Crowley hoped was recognition that she wasn’t being replaced in her eyes was enough to calm his nerves that another episode like this was imminent. He’d never heard Eve use the few words she had at her disposal so desperately, fearfully , and he knew the cry would haunt his dreams for a bit while they worked on this new dynamic. But Aziraphale would be there to help him, just like he had been in that moment of terror, and they would figure it out as they went along, as they had for three months already. 

Poppy unlatched first and Eve followed soon behind her, wiping away a few last pitiful tears as she watched Crowley burp the baby and set her in her rocker for another nap. Aziraphale came back to check on everyone, pleased to see a sleeping baby, a toddler on the floor by the rocker reinvested in the adventures of Peppa and George, and a demon holding out a hand, beckoning his husband to come sit with him. 

“Well, that was eventful.” Aziraphale mumbled under the din of the TV, a statement meant for one set of ears only. “Dinner will stay warm until we’re ready. I think a break is in order. Is everyone alright in here now?” 

Crowley took a look around at his little flock, all tears dried up and a peaceful silence falling over the nest at last.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re right as rain.”

“Including you?”

“Including me, angel.”

+1.

“Morning, angel.” Crowley said as he shuffled into the kitchen entirely too early on a dreary Saturday. The previous day had been full of fun and laughter to celebrate Eve’s 4th birthday, but the amount of sugar she had consumed was a bigger problem than they’d realized when she was eating it. They’d had a beast of a time getting her to sleep, finally conking out well past her bedtime. Not to be left out of the fun, Poppy, a few months shy of 2, had been inconsolably cranky from overtiredness, having played herself to exhaustion with her sister while still in the transitional period of dropping to one nap a day.

Crowley was overjoyed to see them thick as thieves these days, what with Eve’s initial jealousy, but some days it felt like living with a couple of little co-conspirators whose sole mission was to run their parents ragged. Thankfully, an extended breastfeeding session with Poppy had rapidly improved her situation, while Eve had needed a long cuddle with Papa, multiple bedtime stories, and three angelic lullabies. 

When two very exhausted parents reconvened in the master bedroom, ready to collapse, Aziraphale had tactfully not mentioned seeing Crowley discreetly wipe away a tear at the vanity before snuggling up for the night.

Crowley came to stand next to Aziraphale's chair at the table, leaning a hip against his side when the angel’s hand came to rest around his waist, broad palm stroking soothingly up and down his ribcage. Aziraphale felt his fingers slip through the split of the nursing shirt under the cream cardigan Crowley had nicked from his wardrobe, so he’d likely just come from a morning feed with Poppy in the nursery before settling her back in for a bit more sleep after the previous day’s excitement.

“Are you ready to tell me what hurts?” Aziraphale said, setting his morning crossword down and turning sideways to wrap his husband in both arms and rest his face against a belly that had just a touch more squish than it had four years prior. Crowley’s hands skimmed the back of his neck and ran through his hair, needing something to fiddle with while trying to get the words to come out.

“I think…” Crowley started, “I think…she might be ready to stop. Eve. Officially. She was so wound up last night and then upset when she sugar crashed and she—,” a sniffle, “...she still didn't ask for me. For milk. She hasn’t asked in two weeks.” 

The conversation was familiar, but this time felt more real. They’d talked several times in recent months, noticing a sharper decline in Eve’s requests to nurse. She had only been asking when she got a bad bump or scrape or when she was feeling particularly needy with Crowley, like when he took a long day trip to London to meet a plant seller for some rare cuttings. He’d left before she’d woken up and didn’t return home until nearly bedtime. Upon his return, harkened by the faithful rumble of the Bentley, she had promptly waited by the door to drag him upstairs, laying by him in her bed that the demon made look comically small while she drank. 

Even then, nursing sessions borne of a touch of clinginess typically turned into just plain cuddles after only a few minutes of suckling so she could talk his ear off about all the fun things she did with Papa and Poppy, ask a million and one questions, or regale him with fantastical stories from her endless imagination. The soft, sad look in Crowley’s eyes for the short time she laid at his chest was never lost on Aziraphale. He loved to watch from a distance, knowing officially stopping was coming and that it would hurt Crowley much more than it would hurt Eve. 

“Oh, my darling, I know. I know it hurts. It hurts even more that we knew it would be here someday.” Aziraphale said, letting Crowley angle his face up for a self-soothing peck. “She still needs you. And you can still share it with Poppy. They will both always need you. We just have to be ready for them to need us in new ways.”

Crowley nodded and wiped away silent tears, pulling in a stuttering breath. “It just hurts to know that two weeks ago might’ve been my last time with her and I didn’t savor it enough. I want to offer one last time. I’m just scared she won’t want it.” 

“I don’t think you need to worry about that, love. She always wants time with you.” Aziraphale said, pushing his hand under Crowley’s clothes to rest a warm hand on his lower back. “But perhaps a little talk is in order. Let her know it would be the last time but that you’ll always cuddle and play with her, that she can always come to you when she’s sad. If you’d like, I can take Poppy on a walk down the lane so there are no distractions.”

Crowley’s arms stiffened where they rested over Aziraphale’s shoulders. “No. Please, I…I want you to stay. If she says no, I need you here with me.” He felt Aziraphale’s arms wrap tighter at his waist. A silent declaration that he wouldn’t dare leave Crowley’s side. “We’ll put Poppy down for her nap, get Eve wound down so she’ll listen closely. If she doesn’t want it, I’ll need you to keep me together, at least until they’re down for the night. Stave off the breakdown til then. If she says yes, I want you here to take a picture, for the last one. I just want to remember it. Someone , it’s selfish, but I want her to say yes, for me.”

Aziraphale pulled his head back from listening to the rumble of Crowley’s voice where his ear had rested just beneath his sternum. “Crowley…may I—”

“Please, angel.”

Crowley went to hastily ruck the long front panel of his shirt up, but Aziraphale grabbed his wrists, shushing him and laying them back around his shoulders. “Let me.” he said, and pulled the fabric apart slowly, reverently. Crowley shivered at Aziraphale’s breath ghosting over his nipple, passing it in favor of pressing gentle kisses along the curve of his breast. “You’ve been so incredible for her, for both of them, caring for them with your own body. It’s indescribable, how beautiful it has been to watch you run headfirst into this journey with me, how confident you are with a babe at your breast, how deeply you let yourself feel what you share with them. And I know you’ll continue to be incredible for them, even now that one is ready for this part of your story to come to an end. Because you love them, just like I do, and they love you too.”

Crowley’s lip wobbled and he let his tears fall unbidden as he nodded, already knowing every one of Aziraphale’s words was true. He just needed them to be spoken aloud, for them to linger in the air, where Crowley could reach out and grasp them when he needed them again. Aziraphale would tell him as many times as he needed, but they rang truest in the early morning silence that even the patter of rain slid off of. Just like the morning their Evelyn had come into the world. When the only sound that mattered above a downpour, the sweet encouragements of an angel, and the pained screams of a demon was the first cry of someone entirely new. 

Crowley couldn’t stand the wait any longer and finally curved gentle fingers under Aziraphale’s jaw, guiding him to latch and drink. Despite the many times this had played a starring role in a totally separate environment for them, they both knew this was different. Aziraphale always got his turn, after all, but he also knew when it was time to play their games and when it was something more. Aziraphale’s hands didn’t wander, Crowley’s breaths hiccuped around his tears instead of gasping. They simply existed together, Crowley receiving comfort in the way he loved to give it, from the only one who had ever wanted for his comfort to begin with. 

Crowley didn’t know how long they stayed like that, and with the way Aziraphale’s eyes had fluttered shut at the calming petting of his hair, he probably lost his sense of time well before Crowley did. Eventually, though, Crowley glanced at the clock and winced, knowing at least one toddler would start calling from their room any minute now. 

A muttered “angel” was all it took for Aziraphale to pull off and wordlessly set the shirt back to rights, breaking the moment and pulling them out from the hazy bubble they’d made for themselves at the kitchen table, of all places. Crowley swayed a bit, unsteady on his feet that were a touch numb from standing so long. Aziraphale stood and pulled him in for a proper hug.

“Do you feel a bit better, my love?” Aziraphale asked, pecking the corner of Crowley’s mouth and wiping away the last of his tears. Crowley had to shake his head a bit at the smell of his milk on his angel’s breath before taking a moment to consider himself. 

He…he did feel better, didn’t he? Just like he always asked after comfort nursing the kids, Aziraphale asked him . He found himself dreading the afternoon less already at the reassurance that Poppy still nursed, that Eve would still come to him for cuddles, and that Aziraphale would stay by his side for it all. Whether it ended in sobs of regret and longing for the memory of the real final feed or the quiet weeping of cherishing it one last time and remembering to be happy that it happened at all when he had never expected to be able to. 

“I do, angel. A lot better, actually. I know I’ll be alright. We’ll all be just fine. Got you ‘round to make sure of it, don’t we?” Crowley said and straightened himself up, taking a big breath before letting it out in a big gust. “Right. Now that I’ve got that out of my system: coffee. Big day ahead.” 

“Oh, would you hand me my tea while you’re at it? I’ve just left it over there to steep while I did the crossword.” Aziraphale said, retaking his seat as Crowley fired up his fancy espresso machine. 

Crowley grimaced and hacked when he picked up the angel wing mug to set in front of Aziraphale. “Angel, this smells absolutely vile. I know we’ve been a bit busy but how strong were you planning to make this muck?”

Azirahale rolled his eyes. “As if the petrol you drink isn’t vile. I’d fix mine up with milk, but I’m afraid we ran out with yesterday’s breakfast.”

“Au contraire, angel, I’d argue there’s plenty of milk in the fridge. Just not from a cow. Pumped fresh in-house. Not like you haven’t tasted it before.” Crowley winked and leaned down for his required ‘thank you’ kiss. 

Aziraphale pecked his lips and kept his hand under Crowley’s jaw before he could go about making his breakfast. 

“I prefer it at its freshest. Directly from the source.” 

Crowley blushed furiously and stuttered his way through something only semi-intelligible about going to check on the kids. Aziraphale smiled and miracled his tea drinkable, listening to the muffled squeal of delight as Eve saw that Daddy had come to collect her for breakfast and begged to go with him to say ‘good morning’ to Poppy.

‘Yes,’ he thought as he sipped especially sweet tea, ‘we’ll be just fine, indeed.’