Chapter Text
It was off-putting, suddenly having someone else living in his home. Aziraphale put up with Warlock crying, for he was a child, even if he did wake Aziraphale up most nights in the middle of the night. Crowley quickly quieted Warlock, however, thankfully. If Warlock didn’t wake up at the crack of dawn, Crowley slept in. If Warlock forced her up, she’d refer to him as the spawn of hell or a demon or something. Aziraphale wasn’t sure what to say to that.
Crowley put Aziraphale’s coffee pot to more use than he’d ever had. Dishes piled up in the sink and the garbage-filled up quicker than ever. Crowley did her best not to make a mess of Aziraphale’s home, promising not to touch his things. But Aziraphale assured her she was welcome to anything. Aziraphale had, however, put some more valuable items out of Warlock’s reach. Crowley had looked over Aziraphale’s vinal collection with interest, and Aziraphale assured her she could put one on, so she did when he was home one night. Even Warlock soothed at the music.
Aziraphale wanted to offer to take Crowley out shopping to get things for herself. She seemed more concerned about Warlock, only ever getting things for him, and not for herself. Crowley wore the same clothes often. She seemed to have few. That was one of the reasons Aziraphale wanted to take her out shopping, but maybe that was too much. Warlock’s clothes were constantly changed (sometimes multiple times a day. Aziraphale fretted the laundry bill). Near the end of the week, Aziraphale needed a shower and found, with some disgust, hair on the shower wall. He was determined not to be put off by Crowley being in his home. He’d get used to it. Aziraphale was still avoiding being at home as much as possible; however, he wanted to give her space.
“Your gardens are a mess.” Crowley commented one evening after Aziraphale came back from preoccupying himself. She was looking out his windows at his front gardens, which were rather lacking.
“Would you mind if I tried my hand at them?” She turned to him.
“Of course, darling. Do whatever you like.” He assured.
She smiled, still not seeming bothered by him referring to her in such a way.
“The Lord did not bless me with green thumbs.”
She chuckled lovely in reply, making Aziraphale smile.
-
Aziraphale had been calling around to see what assistance Crowley could get. Most of the single mother programs were only up to twenty-five, and she was surely older than that. Each shelter had its own requirements that would require Aziraphale to ask questions and pry, which he wasn’t sure about doing yet. Soon, maybe, after his sermon on Sunday, perhaps.
“Do you get nervous talking in front of all those people?” Crowley asked Aziraphale over dinner in his house the night before Sunday. (Aziraphale said a quick prayer in his head before the meal, not aloud, not wanting to put her off. She made no note of it)
“Well, half of them fall asleep anyway.”
She chuckled.
“We need to go grocery shopping again,” Aziraphale commented.
“Tomorrow, on the Lord’s day!?” She mocked offence.
He glared at her this time. “I meant Monday. I’ll be busy tomorrow. But perhaps laundry could be done tomorrow.”
“Warlock is running out of clothes.”
“And we should talk.” He said slowly.
Crowley nodded, her face unreadable.
After Sunday, Crowley met Aziraphale at the door of his home when he came back. “How was it?” She asked, holding Warlock.
“Rather well, I should think.” Aziraphale smiled at her and turned to tickle Warlock’s tummy and make faces to the babe. When Aziraphale was finished having his fun with Warlock, he turned back to Crowley. “No one criticized my sermon today, so it was a success.”
“And what was it about?” She shifted Warlock in her arms.
“I’m starting a series on the Sermon on the Mount.” Aziraphale noticed no reignition in Crowley’s face. “It’s a very impactful series of sermons by Jesus himself.”
“Ah,” she replied.
She began heading to the living room then. Aziraphale put his stuff away before joining her in the living room as she entertained Warlock on the couch. She looked up at him, her face falling.
“So, I’ve reached out to my contacts, and I’m afraid the prospects are not good.” Aziraphale spoke.
Crowley hummed, eyes dancing away.
“They have questions… about income, mental health, the such.”
She fixed Warlock’s clothes absentmindedly.
“I won’t push if you’re not comfortable,” Aziraphale assured her.
She then talked quietly about how Luke, who seemed to be the man’s name, was holding her money from her. She didn’t believe she had any mental health concerns, though she’d never been tested. Aziraphale offered to help her with the banks if he could; some of his siblings worked in banking. He was sure it wasn’t right, how he’d stolen her money. She seemed hesitant to accept Aziraphale’s help but said she’d appreciate it.
-
Aziraphale found her gardening one afternoon after he returned from offering pastoral support. Warlock was in his bouncing chair outside with her, having the time of his life. Aziraphale smiled and came off to say hello to the babe.
“Hello, Warlock. You’re in good spirits today, aren’t you?” He tickled the boy’s stomach, making Warlock squeal happily.
Aziraphale smiled, then looked over at Crowley, who smiled in return. She was wearing sunglasses over her eyes, and Aziraphale found she looked good with the sun on her face.
“Oh, look what you’ve done.” He noticed his gardens suddenly.
They’d stopped by the garden center at the grocery store the other day, and Aziraphale let her pick up whatever she wanted. She’d planted everything, making his gardens look absolutely better than he’d ever managed.
“It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.” She got up off her knees from the ground, brushing off her pants.
“Well, it’s better than I could ever manage.”
-
Aziraphale met up with one of his former members, who was under the care of her older niece. Aziraphale then suddenly remembered that the niece owned a garden nursery, and an idea came to him. An idea to ask if they had any job openings. As it happened, they did.
Aziraphale returned and told Crowley of the offer. She seemed intrigued with interest, which delighted him, for he did worry about her being annoyed by him finding her a job.
“But what about Warlock?” She asked.
“I’ll look after him. Or I can pay for daycare if you’d rather.”
She thought about it, looking away. She turned back then. “Daycare.” She said sternly. “I don’t want to burden you anymore.”
“You’re not a burden,” He insisted.
-
Aziraphale drove them both Crowley’s fist day of work. They stopped by the daycare to send Warlock off first. Crowley fussed over Warlock and kissed his head.
“Be good. Mama will be back.” She whispered and seemed hesitant to leave him, to give him over into someone else’s care.
“He’ll be alright. He’ll be looked after.” Aziraphale assured her.
Things fell into a comfortable reprieve from there. Aziraphale was allowed to work in his home again. Or at least he felt comfortable doing so, with her being out at work. He still had to go about his pastoral duties, of course. Not to mention the volunteering he often assisted in. Aziraphale drove them to their respective places, dropping them off. But sometimes Crowley took the bus. At Aziraphale’s home, Crowley spent a lot of time outside, in the gardens. Aziraphale often caught her talking with Adam, listening to the boy’s wild stories, playing along, and sometimes encouraging them.
“There’s not a plant that can eat you.” Adam dared to call Crowley out on her lie one day.
“Oh, but there is.” She said sternly, enough to make the boy question if she was telling the truth. “It’s native to the jungles of Africa.”
Aziraphale loved Warlock and loved playing with the boy. He loved playing peekaboo and patty cake. Aziraphale always offered to help when it came to Warlock. But, of course, he didn’t want to push in and make her uncomfortable.
They went out shopping often, and Aziraphale paid for everything. Aziraphale wasn’t bothered, of course. But he thought it was horrendous, the price it was to take care of a baby, the price of diapers and formula.
“No wonder people steal them.” He commented to Crowley.
He made a note to add baby necessities to the donation drive his church often did.
Crowley also seemed to enjoy Aziraphale’s library. They would converse about books after work in the evenings, often putting music on. Aziraphale found their conversations liberating and exhilarating. Crowley would sometimes inquire about biblical stories as she knew of none. Aziraphale started at the beginning of the Bible.
“But why is Eve to blame?” Crowley posited, clearly annoyed with that. Aziraphale didn’t blame her.
“You might like this one poem I came across.” He told her. “It went something like this, “Adam and Eve were thrown out of the garden, but no regrets. For Eve herself was heaven.”[1]
Crowley did indeed seem to like that one.
Aziraphale compared the biblical stories to those of other cultures, noting the similarities. He also noted how translations and mistranslations played a part in understanding things.
“The word Homosexuality was only added to the Bible in the 19th century. The original word in the context of the chapters often pointed to calling it an abomination had a completely different meaning. The original context was referring to men sleeping with young boys.” Aziraphale was heated in this discussion; he’d done much research over the years.
Crowley hummed, nodding along.
This was one evening after supper when Aziraphale had offed some wine, which Crowley happily accepted. Unfortunately, it did not help quell his passionate rant.
“I hate how people use these verses to… to...” Aziraphale was having a hard time putting his feelings into words in his heated state. “Sorry, I get rather heated about this.”
“I can see.”
Aziraphale drew in a slow breath, collecting himself. “Muriel wanted to put some flags or something on the church sign, but…” He sighed, looking into his wine. “My congregation… It’s not that I don’t love them. They are just…”
“Old?” Crowley supplied.
“Yes.” Aziraphale sighed again. “But I suppose I’m old too.” He swirled his wine around in its glass.
“You’re not old.”
He looked up to find her eyes on him. A quiet moment hung between them in the air in the room. Aziraphale felt unsure of what to talk about next. Crowley looked away first, clearing her voice as she began to move.
“I should get Warlock to bed.” She said, getting up.
“Yes,” Aziraphale quickly replied. “I find myself quite tired as well. Too much to drink, perhaps.”
-
Aziraphale came home one day to find Crowley sitting on a blanket with Warlock in the back gardens. She wore a dress he’d never seen on her, along with her sunglasses. Aziraphale’s breath left him sharply for how lovely Crowley looked. She spotted him and smiled in greeting, so he came closer.
“That dress looks lovely.” He commented.
“Went out shopping.” She told him. “Got my first check today.”
“Oh, then we must celebrate indeed.”
Aziraphale took her out to a fine diner. Warlock looked indeed out of place. But they order food and wine, conversations flowing easily between them. Aziraphale noticed that she had even repainted her nails. He felt happy to see her full of life and light.
She let bits of her life spill then. Her family situation was never stable, so she slept on friends’ couches. She barely graduated high school. Then, it was from one boyfriend to the next. She got shit jobs at various customer service positions and hated it. She worked as a mechanic for a time, which shocked Aziraphale, for he hadn’t imagined that for her. But she said she quite liked it, despite the harassment she received constantly. Luke had been like all her past boyfriends, but he had money. When Warlock came, Crowley realized she had to get out for Warlock’s safety.
Aziraphale swore to himself to keep them safe.
[1] https://honeyandelixir.tumblr.com/post/154391555229/آدم-به-جرم-خوردن-گندم-با-حوا-شد-رانده-از