Chapter Text
In the end, they settled on a date and wrote it on the calendar, just like their weekly game nights. Crowley protested having it on the calendar in the kitchen, but Aziraphale found him staring at it one morning, drinking his coffee and smiling slightly.
The date grew nearer and Aziraphale made his quiet preparations, occasionally asking Crowley’s opinion on this or that. He was picking up some of Crowley’s nerves, hoping that everything would go well and he wouldn’t do anything wrong. From his research, age regression could be a very vulnerable experience, and Aziraphale didn’t want to make Crowley feel that he’d made a mistake trusting Aziraphale with it.
They agreed that for the first try, Aziraphale would make the plan. He would create a space where Crowley could be surrounded by the external factors of being a child, even if he couldn’t create a mental space for it yet. Discovering from scratch what childhood felt like wasn’t going to be easy, and both of them were aware of it. They agreed that there was no pressure on either of them, that both of them could step back at any time, and that it was perfectly alright if it didn’t work out.
Knowing all of that didn’t make it any easier to fall asleep the evening before, and Aziraphale found himself lying awake for an hour that felt like a century. Eventually, he managed to drift off to Crowley’s familiar rasping breaths beside him.
–
The late morning light shone into the cottage, the leaves of the plants casting shadows across the shelves and the floors. Aziraphale walked down the hallway, taking a deep breath as he paused in front of the bedroom door.
He was ready for this, for whatever the day would bring. If it was awkward and it didn’t work at all, that was fine. They had already planned a movie to watch in the evening as adults. If it did work and he was responsible for a five-year-old today, that was fine too. If it was anywhere in-between, he was prepared to adapt and ready to learn. Everything was fine, he just had to open the door, wake Crowley up, and start their day together.
He brushed his hands over his apron and then rested his palm on the doorknob, twisting it open and pushing his way into the dark room with a decisive motion.
“Crowley? Crowley, love, it’s time to wake up.”
“Hrrrn?” Crowley rolled over in bed, already twisted up in the sheets. He wasn’t a blanket hog when he shared the bed, but as soon as Aziraphale left he always made himself into a little burrito. It was adorable.
“Come on, sleepyhead.” Aziraphale sat down on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through Crowley’s hair, scratching gently at his head. “Breakfast is already on the table.”
“Oh nooo,” Crowley muttered, turning his head into the pillow so that his voice was muffled. “It’s today.”
“It is today!” Aziraphale said, continuing to pet Crowley’s head. “I made chocolate chip pancakes.”
“Sounds good.” Crowley’s voice was reluctant, and his face was firmly in the pillow.
“I know they’re your favourite, so I made them just for you,” Aziraphale told him. “Only the best for my favourite little one.”
Crowley finally rolled over, but only so that he could put his hands over his face and make an embarrassed whining sound. Aziraphale almost raised his eyebrows: it wasn’t a reaction he’d seen from Crowley before, and he hoped it meant he was on the right track.
“Alright, I’m opening the curtains, so keep your eyes closed!” Aziraphale said, rising from the bed and shaking out his skirt. He was wearing his favourite baking outfit, a yellow tartan dress with a floral apron tied around his waist. It made him feel like he was on the cover of a magazine, and he loved the colours.
He opened the curtains with a flourish, and sunlight came streaming into the room. Crowley had slept in late to give Aziraphale time to prepare, and the day was already nearing noon.
“Do you want to choose your outfit today?” Aziraphale asked, as if it was a question that he asked Crowley every morning.
“Yes,” Crowley said, and finally sat upright. He was so loveable in the mornings, his hair a mess and his pupils narrow slits against the light. “I want to choose.”
“Alright, do you want the blue shirt or the red shirt?”
“Red shirt.”
Aziraphale obediently pulled out one of the shirts they had bought together, a plain red t-shirt that wasn’t too far out of Crowley’s comfort zone, but was miles away from his previous outfits. “And shorts or pants, sweetheart?”
“Pants.”
Aziraphale had expected that, and he pulled out a pair of black jeans. Again, not too unusual, but still looser than anything else that Crowley owned. He scooped out a pair of underwear and a new pair of striped socks, putting them all in a pile at the bottom of the bed.
“Do you want me to stay?” Aziraphale asked, as Crowley reached towards the clothes.
“Stay,” Crowley nodded.
“Do you want me to help?”
Crowley shook his head, so Aziraphale waited and watched Crowley get dressed, tossing his silk pyjamas carelessly on the floor. He stood patiently by the door until Crowley had all of his clothes on, even his socks.
“That’s not where your pyjamas go, little one,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley blinked at him with genuine surprise before glancing back at his crumbled pyjamas. “Could you put them away for me?”
Crowley frowned, but he obediently picked up the pyjamas, folded them, and walked over to put them in the right drawer.
“Good job!” Aziraphale praised, holding out his hand. “We can make the bed later, I think it’s time for breakfast.” Crowley already looked slightly overwhelmed, so Aziraphale wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand. Crowley immediately walked over to hold his hand, and Aziraphale guided him out through the living room and into the dining room.
“There are the pancakes!” Aziraphale said, pointing to a very large stack on the table. “Are you excited?”
Crowley nodded, although Aziraphale could tell that he was still more anxious than anything. Aziraphale pulled out his chair and let him get settled, before sliding two pancakes onto a plate and starting to cut them up. Trying to decide what kind of a child Crowley wanted to try being had been hard: being a baby, a toddler, a seven-year-old, were all very different from each other and equally foreign to the two immortals. They had settled on an older toddler for the first try, so Aziraphale carefully cut the pancakes into bite-sized pieces and added the maple syrup before setting them in front of Crowley with a plastic fork.
Crowley scowled at the plastic fork, but used it to stab a piece of pancake. Aziraphale beamed, proud of how hard Crowley was trying to push past his own discomfort and how little he was trying to hide from Aziraphale at this moment. It was going more smoothly than he had expected, and as Crowley put the first bite of pancake in his mouth, his eyes lit up and he started to eat the rest at a much faster rate.
Hiding his fondness, Aziraphale turned to the counter and began stirring together some chocolate milk, pouring it into a sippy cup and giving it one last shake before putting it in front of Crowley.
Another double-take at the brightly coloured cup, but Crowley picked it up soon enough and started sucking at it, clearly enjoying the chocolate milk. Aziraphale had more of a sweet tooth between the two of them, but he’d never seen Crowley turn his nose up at something that was chocolate.
“Is it good, sweetheart?” Aziraphale prompted, sitting down to his own plate.
“Uh-huh!” Crowley ducked his head after his energetic confirmation, seeming embarrassed. Aziraphale beamed at him.
“I’m glad.” Aziraphale tucked into his own breakfast, watching Crowley struggle with the blunt plastic fork. He had chocolate smeared across one cheek and on the back of his hand already. I’ll have to wipe that up, Aziraphale noted absent-mindedly, and was struck by a wave of newness, mixed with an odd nostalgia for something he’d never had.
Sure enough, at the end of breakfast, Crowley’s face and hands were smudged with chocolate, and Aziraphale wiped him off with a wet cloth, dropping a kiss on his forehead when he drew away. Crowley squirmed under the attention, but even that was unusual. Crowley usually tapped on the nearest surface when he was uncomfortable, but now he was just wiggling back and forth slightly, his hands wrapping around each other. Aziraphale gave him a reassuring smile and rinsed off the cloth.
“Alright, love, do you want to go outside or stay in to watch some cartoons?” Aziraphale asked as he cleared the table.
Crowley thought about that for a few seconds.
“Outside,” he decided.
“Outside it is.” Aziraphale left the chocolatey plates by the sink for later and returned to Crowley, who was pushing his chair back from the table. “Up you go!” he said, scooping Crowley into his arms and propping him on his hip. Crowley, although tall, had always been quite light. It was easy for Aziraphale to carry him with one arm wrapped under him and another one around his back.
Crowley settled against him easily, curling his hands into the fabric of Aziraphale’s dress.
“Maybe it was silly to wipe all that chocolate off,” Aziraphale murmured to himself as he carried Crowley down the hallway. “You’re just going to get all dirty outside.”
“No I won’t,” Crowley said defiantly. His voice sounded no different from normal, but somehow Aziraphale could tell that he was finding an inner child instinct much faster than Aziraphale had expected.
“Alright, I believe you,” Aziraphale told him, and pressed another kiss to Crowley’s cheek before setting him down on the front-hall bench. “Do you want to wear your new shoes?”
“Yeah!” This got a more excited response than anything else had before, Crowley swinging his legs forwards energetically. “Lights!”
Aziraphale knelt down in front of him, his skirt spreading out on the tile floor as he reached over to pull out the sneakers. Undoing the Velcro, he guided Crowley’s feet into them one by one and then did them up. Crowley resumed swinging his feet when Aziraphale stood up, testing how tight they were. He grinned at Aziraphale freely, kicking his heels into the bench he was sitting on and laughing when the shoes lit up with bright red lights.
“Very hip,” Aziraphale assured him. “You’ll be the talk of the town.”
“Uh-huh!” Crowley popped up to his feet, a sudden surge of motion. Aziraphale stopped him before he could run for the door, offering him a pair of plastic-rimmed sunglasses with little car stickers where they hooked behind the ears.
“Here you are, it’s very sunny out there.” Crowley reluctantly slipped them on. “But still don’t look directly at the sun,” Aziraphale added. “It’s very dangerous.”
“I know that,” Crowley grumbled.
“Good. I like your eyes the way they are,” Aziraphale said, and put on his own running shoes before opening the door.
Crowley was out like a shot, running down the garden path and into the sunshine before Aziraphale could step outside.
“Don’t run too far!” Aziraphale called after him, and Crowley’s carefree laughter came back to him. Crowley was spinning in the sun, just outside the garden fence, his arms out-flung to either side and his face tilted upwards.
Aziraphale relaxed when he saw that Crowley wasn’t going anywhere near the cliffs, and turned back to close the door. He wandered down the path, checking on the flowers and the tomatoes as he made his way towards the still-spinning Crowley.
“You’re going to fall over if you keep that up,” Aziraphale admonished. They could consciously stop dizziness, of course, just like any other function of the bodies they inhabited, but he doubted that Crowley was in a space to do so at the moment. At least the grass looked nice and soft under his feet.
Crowley obediently stopped spinning, and then tried to take a step forward towards Aziraphale and fell over sideways with a comedic shout of surprise. His shoulder hit the ground hard, and he rolled to a stop on his back, staring up at the sky.
“Are you alright?” Aziraphale called, suppressing the urge to run forwards and make sure Crowley wasn’t hurt. They were made of tougher stuff than that, and there was no need to hover.
“I… yeah.” Crowley pushed himself up to a sitting position, and looked over to Aziraphale. “I’m fine.”
Aziraphale couldn’t put his finger on what had changed, but he was well aware that the tumble had jolted Crowley out of the relaxed headspace he’d found. He was back to the Crowley that Aziraphale was familiar with.
“Do you want to go back inside?” Aziraphale asked, still fighting the urge to run forwards and scoop Crowley into his arms.
“Yeah.” Crowley pushed his sunglasses up so that he could rub his eyes. “I think I’m done for today, if that’s alright.”
“Of course.” Aziraphale finally approached, sitting cross-legged on the grass next to Crowley. “You can be done whenever you want.”
“It was short,” Crowley sighed. “But it was nice.”
“Oh?” Aziraphale could feel himself brighten at the off-hand comment.
“I think I’d like to do it again, either with you or by myself.” Crowley rolled the hem of his t-shirt between two fingers. “It was nice.”
“I would be happy to do it again with you,” Aziraphale said. “I had quite a bit of fun.”
“Did you?” Crowley was watching him from the corner of his eye, unwilling to meet his gaze head-on.
“Absolutely.” Aziraphale nodded enthusiastically. “You know how much I love playing the housewife every once in a while, cleaning the cottage by hand. This was even better than that, I’ve never felt so… human.” There was no other word for the feeling, like all the centuries could fade away into a single lifetime, like there was nothing above and nothing below but only the here and now. As though there were no obligation to how they had been made, and only the life they created together.
“An angel who wants to be a housewife,” Crowley chuckled, lying back on the grass and letting the childish sunglasses slide back over his eyes. “Sounds like the plot of a terrible romance novel.”
“Hallmark card, romance novel… at least I’m not someone’s idea of a tragic gothic hero,” Aziraphale said, poking Crowley in the side and relishing his laughter.
“You get one novel written about you and they never forget it,” Crowley griped. “Stop tickling me and lie down, angel. The sunlight is warm and you’re blocking it.”
“Oh, if I’m disrupting your basking,” Aziraphale said graciously and laid down next to Crowley, shifting closer to him and letting Crowley wrap an arm around him. The two of them laid under the noonday sun, breathing in the seaside air and closing their eyes to better savour the warmth. Everything that wasn’t them and their cottage seemed very far away, and Aziraphale felt properly at peace.