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The early hours of Christmas morning were usually quiet for them. A softly spoken “I’m home, my love” and a sleepy mumble in response, Crowley barely able to keep her eyes open from waiting all night for Aziraphale’s return. Christmas morning had not been overly-eventful for them in years, not since Nox and Aurora’s birth, on the third anniversary of Crowley nearly beating Aziraphale over the head when they first met, when a gleaming bell was hopefully pressed into palm to be rung when she wanted him again. All the Christmas mornings over the years in between then and now were pleasant memories of watching over mugs of sweet cocoa as the children of various ages opened gifts from their parents. The last several years consisted of waiting on those same children to come home with their children for the holidays. Decades had passed and time had not dulled the happiness they had found and created together.
Aziraphale landed the sleigh with practiced ease somewhere around four in the morning. He would allow the period of deep rest he needed in order to recuperate properly to take him once everything was settled and the children had come and gone for their extended visit to the compound. For now, there was much to be done. He’d established with the elves years ago, when he and Crowley had well and truly become empty nesters, that he was more than happy to take care of the reindeer after the big flight himself while they all got a head start on their well-deserved rest from months and months of toy-making.
He had every intention of getting his ladies settled in their stalls, each getting a whole bunch of carrots with their usual meal as thanks for all their hard work, then trudging his way to the cabin to carefully slip into bed with his love. He knew she’d be half-asleep, just conscious enough to keep her hold on time until she knew Aziraphale had finished zipping around the globe. She’d be cozied into a mountain of well-loved quilts and furs before a roaring fire, unable to settle in their huge bed without someone there to help fill it, especially now that she was nearing the end of her surprise, but entirely welcome, pregnancy. The comfort of home was calling his name.
The reindeer were ecstatic to be unhooked from the sleigh beneath its covered space, the bells along their harnesses noisily heralding their homecoming. With noses excitedly snuffling the ground and jingling all the way, they followed whatever scent they caught and jogged merrily towards the barn before Aziraphale could even give them each a grateful scratch. He trekked through the thick layer of fresh powder to catch up and allow them inside, only to turn the corner and find no reindeer and the large, ornately carved wooden door slowly swinging closed.
“Alright, you fiends,” he chuckled as he pulled the door open for himself, “which one of you figured out how to open– what in Heaven’s name are you doing out here?!”
Engulfed by the raucous grunting of the herd stood Crowley, laughing as everyone tried to get their turn to say hello to the ever-adored Mx. Claus and their impending arrival.
“Okay, okay, Death, that’s enough! Yes, you did a good job sniffing me out, now go on,” she said fondly. The usually surly herd leader took one last snort at her belly and the untidy bun of auburn curls with vivid streaks of silver at the top of Crowley’s head before lumbering over to be welcomed back by Bentley. “Well, hello to you too, my darling husband. Is that any way to greet the mother of your children?”
Aziraphale came to tower before her, tucking his white leather gloves into his pocket as she propped a pushbroom against the nearest stall. Despite the foot or so he had on her at his peak seasonal height and the sheer difference in size between their builds, the warm palm he brought to cradle her cheek was as gentle as the silent snowfall outside.
“It is when she’s 37 weeks pregnant and out in the ruddy barn at four in the morning, wearing nothing but fleece-lined reptilian shoes, a sleeveless top, and–” Good Lord, those were tight, “–leggings.”
Crowley rolled her eyes. “They’re called Crocs, Aziraphale. Honestly, ‘reptilian shoes.’ And I wore my cloak out here, you nut.” She nodded towards the hook by the door, meant for hanging harnesses and instead holding the pristine, emerald green cloak. The golden, hand-sewn swirls he’d painstakingly stitched so as to weave his magic into the enchanted garment would have kept her perfectly warm in the elements, no matter how little she was wearing beneath it. “So am I going to get a proper greeting?”
It was his turn to roll his eyes as he leaned down for a kiss, letting her scratch her fingers through the frost melting in his beard. His free hand came to rest spread wide to nearly cover her entire baby bump, almost done growing but still much smaller than all their previous children. The first thing he noticed as Crowley tried nipping at his bottom lip was that the baby was squirming rather restlessly, even though they’d been quite still for the last several days. The second was that there was absolutely no give to the roundness under his hand.
Aziraphale pulled back, his brow furrowing as Crowley stood on tiptoes to try and chase after him. She… seemed fine.
“Are you having Braxton Hicks?” he asked, waiting to feel the tension release.
Crowley simply laid a hand atop his and shook her head. “Oh, no, that’s the real thing. Waters broke a bit ago and I came out here once I stopped dripping like a leaky tap. Things are moving along as usual, maybe quicker than all the other times.”
Aziraphale froze. Crowley nonchalantly backed away with a sweet caress to his chest and a playful tug at the thick strip of velvet that kept his coat pulled closed at his collar. As if what she’d said was nothing more than idle chatter about how the big flight went or a suggestion as to what all their Christmas feast should consist of. She simply grabbed the pushbroom and started sweeping like she’d never been interrupted by his return.
“You mean to tell me…you’ve been out here cleaning the barn in labor?!”
Crowley swept on. “Better than pacing the cabin like a caged animal.”
Aziraphale floundered for a response, taken entirely aback by her casual admission that she’d been preparing to give birth, maybe for hours, alone. “Annie, you–! You should’ve rung the bell! I’d have been here in two shakes of a lamb’s tail! I…I almost missed Aurora and Nox…,” he trailed off.
Crowley melted a bit at how sweet her own name sounded coming from his lips, an occasional treat among the usual array of pet names, though a touch of guilt tinged the edges of the feeling at the worry in his tone. He was scared he could’ve been too late, like he'd almost been to the birth of their first twins, even though she’d been absolutely positive he would make it with time to spare for this one.
“Well, I don’t think half the children of the world would’ve appreciated being ghosted on Christmas morning,” she said cheekily before setting the broom aside with the other supplies once more. When she stood before him again, taking both his hands between hers as best she could as he nervously wrung his velvet hat, she knew to be softer, to reassure him that he hadn’t missed a thing. “I brought the bell out here with me, angel. I wasn’t gonna let you miss it. I promise it hasn’t been that long. I just needed to be up and about. Couldn’t settle in the cabin without you there.”
He sighed heavily in relief and took her face in both hands, tilting it up to look up at him. “Does that mean, now that I’m here, I can tempt you back inside and into bed?”
Her cocked eyebrow and wry grin gave him his answer before she even said a word. “Not a chance, Santa Baby. I’m probably still hours and hours from the main event.” She pressed a kiss into his palm and gave the back of his hand a pat before turning to the rack of supplies. “Besides, you were going to get the ladies settled before coming to the cabin anyway. Now you’ll have some company while you work and I can have something to pass the time.”
The hustle and bustle of setting out for the gift run meant the barn had been left woefully unprepared for his return and looked a bit of a mess. Crowley had made a good start on what she could, but she was in labor and no matter how practiced she was at it, it was still tiring. Aziraphale could look around the barn and tell she’d been hopping from chore to chore, just as she did when tidying their cabin, and it was endlessly endearing to him. Some stalls had freshly scattered bedding, some didn’t. Some of the extra feed buckets had been washed clean, some hadn’t. Her beloved Bentley’s tack for pulling their daily use sleigh was hung proudly on the door of her stall, supple leather beautifully maintained and clean as could be.
“For my peace of mind,” Aziraphale began, reaching past her to take the broom before she could, “will you at least take it nice and easy? I did just bring back eight reindeers’ worth of tack and look at how lovely you’ve made Bentley’s!”
She narrowed her eyes at his blatant attempt to give her a job she could sit down for but relented, making to grab the leather cleaning supplies so she could hide her blush at how insistently he cared for her wellbeing. Even after all their time together, being loved so kindly and having someone want to see to her comfort warmed her to the core, as if her enchanted cloak permanently rested upon her shoulders.
And so, they set to work and waiting.
Once Aziraphale told her all about how the flight went (and about the absolutely delectable treats that had been left out for him in living rooms across the globe), they worked in comfortable silence. Aziraphale had shucked off his long, heavy velvet coat and pushed up the sleeves of the thermal shirt beneath. Although they’d been through this before, he wanted nothing more than to work through the nerves of waiting on the baby by throwing himself into the physical labor.
While Crowley (rather stubbornly) stood at a rickety table to clean the sleigh-pulling harnesses, Aziraphale mucked the stalls and hauled feed to each member of the herd, who had all become rather impatient and tossed their heads and antlers about to tell him as much. Even when they caught each other’s eyes every so often, they said nothing and just smiled. Or in Crowley’s case, gave a salacious smirk as she watched him retie long white curls into a bun and winking when she was caught admiring him heft a 50 kilo bale of hay onto his shoulder. According to her, she couldn’t be blamed for just “enjoying the view.”
He hardly heard a peep from her for a while, but in the back of his mind, he knew the labor would be getting worse. She’d said things were moving along faster than the previous births but she didn’t say how long she’d been in the barn before he found her. Every time he came to check on her, she shooed him off, insisting she was perfectly alright.
“God damnit, I forgot how much this hurts!” she growled, tossing a harness harshly against the worktop and leaning heavily on her forearms, allowing her head to dangle between her shoulders.
Aziraphale rushed over and covered her slender hips with both hands, squeezing inward and listening intently to the long and low humming in her throat that said the pain was rising. He followed her lead, keeping his hold but leaning back to give her space to move as she pleased, rocking side to side on instinct alone.
When the contraction finally waned, she righted herself, set her shoulders with a forceful sigh, and shooed him away once more.
“Toni, my sweet, are you sure it’s not time to go inside?” he pleaded, gesturing to her cloak.
“Nope!” she said resolutely. “That one meant business but it’ll be that way for a while. These things take time, you ought to know that after six babies.” She pointed over his shoulder to the hay loft. “And you still need to drop some extra bales down so the elves don’t have to worry about it while I keep you inside for a few days.”
He knew a dismissal when he heard one. And she was right, there was still more to be done to prep the barn for his long hands-off period. He didn’t mind coming to help the reindeer caretaker elves during their belated holiday celebrations, but he’d far rather spend the time with the family.
After chattering on about the flight, Crowley had told him she’d already let all the children know they were still welcome to return to the compound later that day, but that their actual holiday gathering would need to be pushed an extra day or two. When they and their families stayed at the Pole, it was always the highlight of their year. It filled him with endless joy to know that, despite the less than ideal timing, this year would be extra special. The entire family would get to meet the baby when they were brand new to the world.
Aziraphale climbed up to the hay loft and got to work, tossing the smaller bales and flakes to the far end of the barn for the elves’ easy access. In between the heavy thuds, he heard the scrape of the pushbroom pick back up, telling him Crowley had finished what she felt like doing on the harnesses and gone back to sweeping to reoccupy herself with slow, waddling steps.
In a way, the continued noise was comforting to him. She was weathering the labor like she had before, with the quiet focus and innate beauty of someone who had created life before and knew exactly what to do when the time came to bring it forth. It was a bit odd to see it happening again all these years later. He’d forgotten how nonchalant she could be about the whole thing. If the innate beauty of childbirth came with wearing furry rubber shoes and overpriced athleisure wear, then so be it.
The sounds of his love puttering about below had grown so soothing so quickly that it was not the sound itself that caught his ear and gave him pause after another bale hit the ground. It was the absence of evidence of her presence that had him stop.
He stood completely still and waited. The satisfied grunts of the reindeer eating fell on deaf ears. He listened for one being only, for any sound she would give him.
A burst of sharp panting and startled cry broke the silence, resounding throughout the barn. “Aziraphale!”
He ran to the edge of the loft and peered over and oh, God, the squat.
He knew her. He’d witnessed her give the world their children six times across four labors. This was the moment. This was when laboring became birthing.
Crowley’s back was to him where she lowered herself into that same deep squat, holding onto the handle of a stall with white-knuckled fists. He could see more than hear the pause in her ragged breaths, the heaving of her back abruptly stopping and leaving him in near silence once more.
Without thinking, he jumped from the loft, adrenaline whisking away every ounce of fatigue or anxiety. The tone of her voice, her desperate call for him, after all her joking and casual teasing to stop his hovering, could mean only one thing: things had gone too far.
He knelt beside her and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, the focused set of her brow and jaw broke. She gasped, fighting to both catch her breath and speak through the struggle. “I don’t know what happened! Everything was fine and now I–!” Another prolonged, throaty groan stole the words from her and Aziraphale realized what she was doing.
“Are you pushing?!”
Her head whipped to turn blazing golden brown eyes on him and there she was. This was the stunning creature that had, through this very act and the blood it spilled, tied herself inextricably to him and the land they stood upon decades ago. From Juniper 23 years ago all the way back to Aurora and Nox, the first children to be born at the North Pole, this was what he remembered best of all the times they’d gone through this. It was primal, instinctual. Every sound, every movement she couldn't’ stop carried intention. Oh, how he wished they had more time for him to appreciate it, appreciate her. Unfortunately, with the way she rocked on her heels and her moaning grew louder, it seemed this time around would be different.
“I can’t bloody help it!” she shouted, whimpering when his hand, cool in comparison to her burning skin, brushed along her temple and pushed away stray curls that had fallen from her bun. “I–fuck–no, okay, now we can go inside.” Her eyes flicked from him to the door and down to where she cradled her bump in one arm. “I can make it home, I have to. Help me up.”
He pulled her to standing and led her one step towards the door. On the second step, Crowley knew it was too late.
The hand not engulfed in Aziraphale’s tight grip shot between her legs, meeting bright red wetness. Every muscle and instinct screamed at her to drop back down into the squat, to anchor herself on her angel’s strength and finish the job. She had no choice but to listen.
“Love?” Aziraphale asked, his voice tinged with a hint of panic.
“They’re right there,” she said through grit teeth. “M’not gonna make it, you have to catch them! I can’t move, I can’t move.” A wild growl tore from the back of her throat as she strained again involuntarily, trying desperately not to push but falling victim to her body’s will.
Just as Crowley had, Aziraphale looked to the door then back to her. It was too far. She was right, they’d never make it home, not even if he carried her and ran. Better here than out in the snow.
“Hold still, Annie, I’m coming right back. I won’t leave you to do it on your own,” Aziraphale promised. When he was sure she could stand on her own holding the stall again, he dashed across the barn to quickly wash to the elbow in the utility sink and collect their outerwear, hanging her cloak on the tack hook of Bentley’s stall and draping his own coat across his leg where he took a knee before her. With his shoulders at the perfect height, Crowley stood a tad bow-legged and leaned on him for support.
For a moment, they locked eyes, just like they had while they worked and flirted, when they had been completely unaware this would be the place they welcomed their seventh. Crowley smirked sheepishly and squeezed the solid muscle beneath her hands to soothe herself as he unbuttoned his thermal shirt halfway. “This is what I get for faffing around with that damn broom, huh?”
Aziraphale slipped his fingers into the waistband of her leggings and laughed. “No, not at all,” he said, “this is.”
The leggings were ripped clean in half and the scraps tossed aside, stained with so much blood and fresh amniotic fluid that they were well beyond saving.
Crowley’s affronted gasp was louder than when she’d called out to him in a panic. “Not my Lululemons! Those were 80 quid! I could’ve–oh, fuck, it’s now–right now, angel, now! ”
Her body bore down and she shouted, the cry shocked and broken around what little air she had time to take in. Aziraphale could only hold his hands beneath her, his coat draped over his arms like the most luxurious receiving blanket, and wait, heart hammering in his chest. It killed him to listen to her in such a state, taken so off guard, but he knew as well as she did that it was simply what must be done. Just as he knew the squat from before meant it was truly time, he knew she only needed to let out one such heart-wrenching cry before the intense focus would wash over her again, even if it seemed her body was well ahead of her mind.
Crowley breathed deeply through the valley of a contraction, not entirely gone as was normal for the final stretch but definitely one where pushing would not be productive. Her legs shook and she wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t in shock from how quickly it was all happening. She really hadn’t been outside for long and, yeah, the contractions had been pretty strong from the get go, but all the other children had taken ages. Even as an old pro, she truly hadn’t expected the sudden spike in severity that left her speechless and her body pushing on its own like it was the only thing it had ever known how to do.
But she knew if there was one thing that would see her through it, it was Aziraphale. The softness of velvet against the sensitive skin of her quivering thighs gave her peace of mind. There were calm, steady, loving hands there. Waiting to catch, wiping away rivulets of blood before they could trickle down her legs to the barn floor. She didn't care that the effort was futile; she had spilled blood on this land before, she would do it again. The kindness and desire to soothe was felt in the gesture no less. The whole place smelled like sweet hay, but the familiar notes of vanilla and cedar and him eased the shaking in her hands where she gripped his shirt for dear life.
“Fuuucking Hell,” she groaned, bracing her forearms on Aziraphale’s shoulders and laying her head against the top of his, exhausted and a bit woozy. As she shifted with the peaking of another contraction, she tried to push weakly to contribute to what her body was already doing for her, pressing a bleating cry into the mess of white curls piled into a bun and smattered with bits of alfalfa hay. The pressure within her changed and she felt his covered hands draw upwards in a hurry, heard the splatter of more of her waters on the ground. “It’s almost over, I can do this.”
Aziraphale laughed, the merry chuckling shaking her body where she rested on him. “Of course you can. You already are, love. That was the head that just came out like it was nothing.” With his hands occupied, all he could do to reciprocate the affectionate nuzzle he felt at the crown of his head was press upwards into it. The poor thing was ready to drop. “Just a bit more and I can take care of you both.”
“That sounds bloody amazing, angel,” Crowley sighed. “I don’t think it’s gonna take much more. Ready?”
Aziraphale brushed wet velvet along Crowley’s thigh in a reassurance, keeping his eyes trained on the baby’s head. “Whenever you are, my darling. I have you.”
He felt the muscles of her forearms relax a bit on his shoulders with those words, the fabric of his shirt bunched loosely in her grasp. She took a long, controlled breath in, and pushed.
There was none of the climbing screams like there had been in the very final moments of many of their other children’s births. There wasn’t even time for it. Tiny shoulders emerged, one right after the other in quick succession. Crowley’s voice pitched and her breath caught on a gasp, the focused vocalization she moaned into his hair abruptly cut off.
And just like that, with a singular push using what little strength she had left, it was over.
Aziraphale caught the baby and positively beamed. “And we have a seventh! There you are, come now, sweetheart, let’s get you nice and warm.”
It wasn’t ideal, but for working with what they had, the soiled coat served its purpose well enough. He gently wiped the tiny dear’s face, his eyes prickling at the beloved sound of their baby’s first squalling cry, a sound they hadn’t heard in so long but still felt bright and new.
The opening of his shirt lent itself to freeing up a hand. He carefully tucked the baby inside, held between the sturdy warmth of his chest and the portion of the coat he’d haphazardly stuffed into the shirt behind them, the rest hanging over his arm where he supported them from outside their temporary cocoon. It was awkward and a bit much to handle, but there was more than one who needed his attention and care. The periwinkle cord still hung from Crowley and disappeared into Aziraphale's shirt where the baby was curled, momentarily tethering all three of them together.
Crowley continued to pant heavily above him, trembling. “Angel, are they okay?”
“Don’t you worry, my love,” Aziraphale assured, already gently massaging her abdomen with the hand not cradling their new addition, “they’re perfect, absolutely perfect. Marvelously done, as always, darling. Can you get your top off yourself?”
She must’ve been in good spirits, despite the paleness he had not yet noticed in her face making her freckles stand out like constellations close enough to touch, because she gasped in fake scandal as she slowly lifted an arm from his shoulder and tugged her tank top over her head. “Angel, asking me to strip at a time like this? M’afraid you’ll have to wait your turn. There’s someone else who needs that skin a bit more than you.”
She laughed at his scoff and the bit of blood he'd gotten in his beard when she finally unfurled herself from over him. She still held herself up on his shoulder, a steadying presence both physically and emotionally, but righting herself gave him the space to quickly study her, to see for himself that she was alright.
“Let me,” she mumbled, barely audible over the grizzling cries coming from Aziraphale’s chest but nodding at the question of ‘alright?’ written across his face. “I’m good. Give them here.”
Despite the trembling Aziraphale still felt in her hands as they pushed down on his shoulders, he drew the baby in their makeshift blanket from his shirt. When she opened her arms for them, they were sure and steady.
She bunched the coat carefully and pressed the baby to her bare chest, cooing quietly and ignoring the smearing of blood and vernix on her skin. “Well, hello there, sweetheart. Aren’t you a wee thing? You certainly made quite an entrance.” She tore her eyes from the baby for a moment to find every reindeer peering at the scene from inside their stalls. “With a captive audience to boot.”
“Good to know just how safe you still feel here,” Aziraphale said with more than a hint of pride. “Even with all the fuss, they slid right out.”
“You’re just preening on all fronts, huh? Caught the fruit of your loins for yourself and you get all smug about making my brain feel safe enough for them to practically push themself out,” Crowley teased, resting her cheek lightly on the baby’s head and breathing deeply that peculiar yet intoxicating new baby smell. “While you’re down there, please, for the love of God, check my cooch before you move me. M’not sure it’ll ever be the same after shoving them out that fast.”
Aziraphale rolled his eyes but checked for tearing nonetheless, just as Sarakka, a dear friend and goddess of fertility/unofficially-licensed midwife Aziraphale had called in a favor with, had taught him after the first birth. “Your ‘cooch’ is just fine, darling. They’re so little, I’m not sure they could’ve done much damage if they tried. Now, let’s get you home before the placenta comes out faster than the baby. We’ve nothing to tie the cord off with out here, so we’d best get a wiggle on.”
It took some uncomfortable shifting and more than a few pained hisses as she was moved, but Aziraphale managed to cradle both wife and baby in his arms. Her emerald cloak with embroidered stars pooled beneath her from shoulders to heels and the deep red comfort of his coat draped over the length of her front, shielding her and the precious little one seeking her warmth from the snow as he carried them home.
Upon setting her on their bathroom floor, his coat fell away to reveal the baby nursing soundly at Crowley’s chest and a fully intact placenta having, indeed, practically fallen out in the fabric beneath her without her notice. Thankfully, they’d already begun preparing for the baby’s birth, and the ball of heavy duty string was ready and waiting in the birth kit, freshly replaced when the previous ball was found crumbling from years of disuse.
Aziraphale worked quickly to tie the cord off, pressing a peck to Crowley’s forehead before grabbing the scissors to set to boil. While he was gone, Crowley let her head fall back against the edge of the clawfoot tub and rested, smiling softly at the sensation of the baby’s suckling. It had been so long since she’d fed a baby from her own body, a simple act of provision that brought her to tears if she thought about it for too long. Juniper was months from turning 23 and here Crowley sat, homegrown placenta forever changing her perception of her favorite cloak and the tiniest of all her stars in her arms, completely unbothered now that they were settled at the milk bar for their first meal.
It felt like the first time all over again, complete with frantic Christmas morning birth and the gentle touch of her lover returning to wash away the blood and sweat it took to bring another into the world.
After all these years, Aziraphale still knew the drill. With cord cut, placenta stored away for use in the greenhouse, and their poor outerwear decisively left on the bathroom floor to be dealt with later, Crowley let herself be dressed and baby swaddled, carried to bed, and doted on.
“They really are so terribly small, aren’t they? Juniper was about this early and she was much larger,” Aziraphale said from where he was pressed to Crowley’s side, finally resting against the headboard after grabbing anything she could possibly need.
Crowley hummed quietly in agreement. She stroked a finger over a thin tuft of stark white at the very front of the baby's soft red hair as the second round of nursing slowed, no longer whimpering at the cooler air outside the swaddle but perfectly calm at the warmth of Crowley's skin. “I was also much larger with Juni. They’ll be alright, just have some catching up to do. Mummy’s milk will turn you into a chubby little cherub in no time.”
“Speaking of no time,” Aziraphale said, “I know you told the others our gathering will have to wait a day or two, even if they still arrive at the extra cabins later today, but I think they’ll be expecting to know this one’s name when they make their big debut.”
Crowley raised a brow at him and tried very hard not to burst out laughing and jostle the baby. “Very smooth, angel. I was wondering how soon you’d bring up the name. It’s not enough that their hair came out looking like a candy cane?”
Aziraphale grinned sheepishly. “You did say I could give them a Christmas name since they’re the last. The actual last, that is.”
Crowley had indeed promised as such. She’d thought “Juniper” had been enough to satisfy his holiday spirit, back when they thought Juni was the final addition to their family. But when they had discovered their surprise baby, she’d finally laid down her arms and conceded to a proper Christmas name full of as much holiday cheer as he could muster, written on a secret list of ideas he’d kept close to his chest the entire pregnancy.
With a sigh laced with nothing but the fondest of resignation, Crowley handed the baby off to Aziraphale to be burped and lovingly rocked in the hands that had caught them.
“What exactly did you have in mind?”
~~~
The large main cabin was abuzz with excited chatter, the living room and kitchen brimming with Claus children, spouses, and grandchildren. Aziraphale had welcomed them all at the door with bone-crushing hugs as they arrived, kneeling on the floor to greet little ones (and even the not-so-little ones, with how much height he still had on them at this time of year) before reminding them where the fully-stocked playroom was. Each and every one of their children had looked around the foyer when they were let go from their impromptu back cracking and immediately asked “where’s Mum and the baby?”
“She’s upstairs. She’ll join us shortly,” he explained for the last time as Olwen arrived with her fiance, rounding out the extensive group they had gathered to finally have their holiday celebration two days after the fact. Aziraphale had worried about having the baby present at the party, but Crowley had assured him that there would be no passing them around like a toy. Still worried about the threat of their darling catching something, he’d pressed a soft kiss to the sweet little wisps of downy red and white hair, lingering a moment to pass a bit of magic on to them that wouldn’t dare allow them to fall ill.
The gaggle of grown children in the kitchen made their way to the living room that was just this side of comfortably full to greet the last arrivals. Aziraphale stood by the bottom of the stairs to do one more headcount, making sure everyone was home before he went to let Crowley know they were ready to start the evening.
But as he scanned the small crowd, smiling to himself seeing them all gathered in one place, conversations suddenly blinked out one by one and a hush fell over the room.
All eyes turned to the top of the staircase where Crowley stood, one hand lightly gliding down the polished wood handrail, the other cradling the rich burgundy sling keeping the baby tucked to her chest.
Aziraphale couldn’t help but stare just as all the others. She was ravishing. Despite wearing nothing out of the ordinary for her, he was utterly taken. The fluid movement of a simple emerald skirt that fluttered around her ankles with each step exuded an effortless grace. The wrap’s golden ring at her shoulder glinted with the twinkle of fairy lights strung within garland lining the staircase, Crowley’s fingertips skating along the pine needles running along the outside of the bannister. The subtle split in her tucked black turtleneck, hidden underneath the baby and her tumble of red and silver curls, told him that she would have just come from nursing them, truly a vision to behold each time she held them so close and watched them take what she happily gave.
Her very presence brought stillness to their beloved chaos. Never once had she demanded respect, but it was freely given nonetheless. Even the spouses and older grandchildren had all come to understand the endless admiration the Claus children had for their mother, an example set first and foremost by Aziraphale and the boundless love the children had seen him give her without reservation their entire lives. It was as if a single utterance of “she’s here” had spread like wildfire and caused a tidal wave of quiet to wash over the room, to silently honor the arrival of…well, she’d never call herself such a title, as she’d never tried to be anything more than ‘Mum’, but it was the arrival of a matriarch.
Normally, she was alongside Aziraphale to welcome them all home as they arrived, but with each addition to their merry bunch, the anticipation to see her had only grown stronger. The first glimpse of her with the baby held close to her heart made this year feel different. Their mother had created life once again and, no matter how big the gap in their ages, she had given them a new sibling.
The reverence in the room was palpable. Aziraphale was no exception. The silence behind him as he smiled up to his wife made him absolutely giddy as he offered his hand for her to take on the last few steps. The oldest twins would give him a hard time about being so openly smitten the second they got the chance. If being given a hard time for being impossibly in love with his eternal partner was part and parcel of having snarky adult children, he was perfectly happy to take their ribbing.
The children had certainly inherited that enjoyment of giving people shit from their mother.
“Alright, you lot, no need to gawk, I know I’m late,” she joked, breaking the silence. Aziraphale kept a hand pressed to the small of her back as everyone went back to their conversations, (im)patiently waiting for their turn to greet her as she made her way around the room. Careful, half-sideways hugs were given and kisses were pressed to her cheeks. A tween grandchild or two tried to sneak a peek at Nan’s new baby, whose head was mostly obscured by the wrap and their face turned towards a chest to rest against, before getting their hair ruffled when she caught them, reminding them they’d see the baby and find out their name when everyone else did later, just like Grandad had already said when they’d arrived.
The elves who loved to plan a good party had done a marvelous job helping Aziraphale reconfigure the rarely-used but massive formal dining room to fit the egregiously large table that still barely fit them all. Dinner saw the return of the chaos, conversations happening down the length of the table, across it, diagonally, every which way. All the while, Crowley and Aziraphale simply drifted along in the liveliness, occasionally laughing at whatever bits and pieces of silly debates they could catch.
After dinner came the wind down in the den around a roaring fire, gallons of hot cocoa served up as a sweet treat that would make all the children nice and tired for bed. There would be plenty of time for fun winter games in the coming weeks, but the first night was rapidly coming to an end. There was only one thing left on the agenda.
“Before you all go to your cabins–,” Crowley began from the loveseat she shared with Aziraphale.
Although the grandchildren were fighting sleep already, sprawled across their parents’ laps in strange piles on the floor, everyone but the youngest grandchildren was alert at once, their ears perking at the indication the moment they’d been waiting for had finally come.
“Oh, Christ, okay, it’s not the winning lotto numbers or anything,” she said, taken aback by the rapt attention on her once again. “You’ll have plenty of time to meet them while you’re here and we’ll be back in London soon enough as well when they’re not so fresh from the manger–”
“Annie, darling,” Aziraphale teased, already reaching to loosen the sling “don’t keep them in suspense any longer. Show them our little Christmas morning gift.”
Crowley laughed at being caught stalling and slid her arm into the sling to hold them tightly. A chorus of adoring coos came from the crowd at her feet as the baby grunted and stretched when the wrap slid away and she turned to face them all. “Everyone…,”
The moment made Crowley’s eyes burn with unshed tears as she gently ran the backs of her knuckles over candy cane hair. There, before her, sat generations of her and Aziraphale’s own creation, desperately waiting to know the newest of their family to pour their love into. Waiting to meet this brand new person, this precious surprise that she had made for them, for him, for herself.
Although they were the last, they brought her no less joy than all those that came before them.
“This is Merry.”