Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Thank you so much for joining me, my dear Newton. Having your feedback has been and will continue to be most helpful. You are a magnanimous fellow.”

They had just left The Gentlefolk’s Tailor, a bespoke suit shop where Aziraphale dropped off sketches for his and Newt’s wedding attire along with a hefty down payment, leaving the suit maker without speech for more than a minute’s share of time. He and Newt were to return tomorrow to be measured once the tailor had studied the sketches.

“This is very exciting. I’ve never had a suit custom made for me before. I really must insist -”

Aziraphale held his hand up. “No, no. I know what you want to say and I won't hear of it. It is customary to bestow a gift unto one’s best man, so do consider this as such, please.”

“O-of-of course. You’re incredibly generous, Mr. Fell.” Mr. Fell. Newt couldn’t help feeling nervous. He just watched Aziraphale drop several thousand pounds in the bespoke suit shop and all he could think of to say was a simple “thank you.” It didn’t feel like enough. Then again, Newt didn’t know much about weddings and what is customary among the bridal party. He wondered if he should be getting a gift for Aziraphale. What could even compare?

Aziraphale smiled warmly at him. “Mr. Fell?”

Newt cleared his throat. “I got nervous. I, uh, don’t know how to be a best man and can’t think of a proper gift for you.”

Aziraphale slowed his stroll. “Don’t know how to be a best man? Proper gift? Newton Pulsifer, the fact that you agreed to be my best man is the most splendid gift of all. This isn’t tit-for-tat. If it was, just look at all you’re doing for us and you’ll find we are most fortunate to have your contributions. You’ve arranged your fellow students to cater our wedding. You’re making our cake. You bought three kilograms of Nutella for my darling bride-to-be. Above all, you’ve been a wonderful friend, a brother to both myself and Crowley, and the only person in this universe I could imagine asking to stand with me during one of the happiest moments of my life. We haven’t even touched on the very correct notion that I have of you as an uncle. There is no doubt in my mind that our tiny angel will absolutely adore you and that you will dote on them. Honestly, I can’t wait for that moment when the two of you meet each other. Everything about you is a gift.”

“I’m just so happy to be part of your family. Thank you, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale gave him a side squeeze. “You are most welcome.” He stopped walking and looked around. “Now! Time to fill our bellies. What say you? Lunch?”

They were seated in a restaurant called The West End Pub, a small cafe with posters and photographs from West End productions throughout the ages scattered all over the walls. They weren’t in London, rather they were in a town near Aziraphale and Crowley’s South Downs cottage. The cafe was warmly lit and Aziraphale noted the perfect booth.

“Over there!” He pointed. Perfect for both of us!

They were sat at a booth with thick chestnut brown leather seating and a wall filled with photos of one certain Scottish actor in several productions, notably the ones from the West End - Good, Don Juan in Soho, and, Aziraphale’s recent favourite, Macbeth. They joined several headshots of the actor as well as an on set photo of Doctor Who. Both Newt and Aziraphale sighed while looking at the photos.

Newt took a few pics with his phone, including one of Aziraphale looking lovingly at the images on the wall, his hands clasped together over his heart. He immediately sent them to Crowley.

Newt: ”Look who we found!”

Crowley: ”That fucker is everywhere. Make sure Aziraphale doesn’t poke a hole under the table. Be a bit awkward. Will give you 20 quid if you draw a moustache and horns on one of the pics.”

Newt: ”I’m sitting with an angel - I don’t think vandalism will go over well. We should just put up a picture of you. They wouldn’t notice.”

Crowley: ”THEY WOULDN’T NOTICE? OF COURSE THEY’D NOTICE. The wall would be improved!!!!! Finally, someone fucking handsome!”

Newt sent him a gif of a reclining Deadpool rubbing his nipple through his super suit.

Crowley: ”You’re a pervert. Give my angel a kiss for me. Make it authentic, though. Use tongue.”

Newt looked at Aziraphale, who was reading texts Crowley was sending rapid fire. “Your wife-to-be says ‘hello.’”

Aziraphale laughed and looked up. “Well, she’s currently ‘blowing up,’” he made air quotes with his fingers, “my text messages, as the youth say, reminding me that she is at least 42% hotter and…” Another message dinged with an angelic harp sound. Aziraphale turned red. “...And…oh…oh my.” He quickly stuffed his phone back into his pocket.

Newt laughed loudly. Crowley must have sent Aziraphale a reminder of how hot he could be.

Their conversation was varied and eager. They spoke of tailoring, wedding plans, the catering menu, Newt’s current happenings at culinary school, spring plans for Jasmine Cottage’s gardens, ideas for supper and dessert. Newt kept looking up at the photos.

Aziraphale took note. “He’s a handsome fellow. I find myself enjoying the view in this booth as well.”

“He’s so fucking hot,” Newt breathed, mindlessly popping two chips in his mouth.

Aziraphale thought for a moment, studying the look on his face and glancing back at the photos. He had a notion. “Do you…do you truly fancy him, Newt?”

“Wot? Oh…uh…” Fuck that was direct. He looked at the actor’s headshot, then at Aziraphale, whose eyes were kind and soft. Suddenly, the noisy chatter in the restaurant sounded far away.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said with a gentle tone. “Perhaps that question was too personal. I’ve forgotten my manners.”

“You didn't do anything wrong, Aziraphale.” His palms felt damp and there was a tugging in his stomach. He was going to tell Aziraphale something he’d only told one other soul.

“I do fancy him, yeah. He, uh…well, when I was young, I fancied Billie Piper, too. Then, I realized I was very attracted to him. I wasn't sure of the right words at the time, but your Scottish fellow was my…um…my bisexual awakening.” He gulped hard.

“Newt,” Aziraphale said softly. “My dear Newton. I had no idea.” He reached out and put his hand over Newt’s.

Newt lowered his gaze. “No one other than Anathema knows.” He looked back up at Aziraphale and found comfort in his expression. “My parents are wonderful and wouldn't mind at all. They never made me feel like I couldn't be who I am. I just…I never had the confidence to just come out with it. Feel a bit stupid about that.”

“Oh, pish posh. You're not stupid, my dear boy. You’re allowed to do things on your own terms. I must say, I’m incredibly honoured that you have shared that part of yourself with me. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you. Truly.” He fanned his face with his hand. The reality that he came out to Aziraphale just hit him. “Wow. I can't believe I said it to someone else.” His body tingled with relief.

“How do you feel?”

“I can’t describe it. It’s a very nice feeling - like when your muscles have been all tense and then you finally release them. Very warm, in a sweet way. Crowley always talks about how you’re a safe place to land and I can feel that.”

Aziraphale's expression melted into a smile. “Oh, that makes me so happy to hear. You’re such a marvelous person...ah, a marvelous bisexual…and you should feel nothing but comfort in who you are.”

Marvelous bisexual Newt couldn’t help the giant grin on his face. “Anathema is obviously very supportive. This seems like a new layer of having people know all of me. I like it. It’s nice to say it out loud. I mean, I knew you’d be lovely, but there is a certain something extra that I feel…don’t know that I can put words to it.”

“You feel seen.”

“Yes! That’s it. I feel seen.”

“I quite understand. Even with people who are a comfort, it’s rather beautiful to have them see those gorgeous parts of you. When I first told Crowley I was non-binary…oh, it felt wonderful. It was such a special moment that I’ll treasure forever. And this is another special moment to treasure, Newt.”

When they arrived at the cottage, Aziraphale pulled next to Newt and Anthama’s new car. Technically, it was Anathema’s. Dick Turpin was home at Jasmine Cottage.

“Come to think of it,” Aziraphale began, looking over the new car, “your other car, the fine Dick Turpin, is remarkably bisexual. I don’t know how we weren’t clued in.”

Newt laughed and followed him in. They found Anathema and Crowley at the table in the kitchen, midwifery textbooks opened in front of them. Crowley was pointing to an image on the page while Anathema jotted a few words down in a note. They were mumbling birthy words back and forth to one another.

“Look at these studious sisters,” Aziraphale said brightly. “What are you two working up here?”

Anathema took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I’m co-presenting a workshop on shoulder dystocia techniques. Crowley is helping me not overthink my notes. He’s brilliant, by the way.”

Aziraphale gave a proud smile. “That he is.”

“Ohh! Oh! We have mail!” Crowley grabbed a few envelopes from the worktop and waved them in the air. “Our first RSVP’s”

‘How wonderful! Let’s see what they say!” Aziraphale clapped his hands together. “I imagine one comes from the Device-Pulsifer household?”

Crowley squinted as he looked over each small envelope. “Nope. These are from folks in the queer group. Not a Device or Pulsifer to be seen.”

“We’re in the wedding. Obviously, we’re coming,” Anathema said helpfully.

Crowley shook his head. “Oof. Wrong answer.”

Aziraphale leaned against the worktop. “Was your invitation bereft of the RSVP card? How careless of me, if so. ”

“Um…no? It was in there.”

“Ah. I do wonder why such a card would be included with your invitation.”

Newt leaned into Anathema. “I think we’re in trouble.”

Aziraphale winked.

Anathema excused herself to the bathroom and Aziraphale left to hang up his waistcoat. Newt began gathering what he needed to make supper.

“Newt, be a dear and hand me the orange juice from the fridge, please,” Crowley requested, turning towards him.

Newt moved to open the fridge, but turned to face Crowley instead. “I’m bisexual,” he squeaked out. This wasn’t how he meant to do it, but it would do. It was remarkably them

Crowley blinked up at him, his mouth open slightly. His heart quickened and Tartan, who had been quiet for the better part of an hour, began kicking. It’s possible that he briefly short-circuited before the fullness of Newt's announcement hit him.

“Come here.” Crowley stood and opened his arms to pull Newt into a hug.

Newt felt tingly all over, in a way that told him everything was alright and he was loved and accepted exactly for who he was - not that there was any doubt. It was just nice to be reminded. Aziraphale had hugged him after lunch and now he was in Crowley's arms feeling the same cocoon of protection and love. Anathema had described that to him, saying it was because they wrap their wings around them during hugs. Newt felt he truly understood that now. Crowley, for all of his intimidating presence - though Newt knew what was underneath - and sarcastic wit, was pouring acceptance and true family love into Newt at that very moment.

“I’m so proud of you, Newt,” Crowley whispered in his ear. “I love you so much.” He kissed his cheek and his forehead.

At 24 weeks of pregnancy, Crowley had grown quite a bit since they last saw each other just about a fortnight ago. His belly pressed into Newt, who could feel the fluttery kicks of his tiny nephew or niece through his cardigan and the T-shirt underneath.

“Well, look at that.” Crowley took one of Newt's hands and pressed it to his belly. “A little high five. They are very proud of you.”

Newt looked down at their joined hands over Crowley’s belly. There was so much to say. Crowley and Aziraphale had always been a safe place for him and the support he received today meant so much. His mind rolled over the right words to say, but didn't quite reach them before Crowley Crowley'd.

“Not a big surprise considering that blue shoe that you drive. Nothing heterosexual about that car.” He cackled.

Newt joined in the laughter. “Aziraphale said the same thing. Anyway, now you can't tease it anymore. It would be homophobic.”

Crowley was once again left with his mouth agape.

Anathema walked in at that moment. “Did he short circuit again? What did you do to him?”

Aziraphale was right behind her. “Oh dear, has he run out of petrol?”

“I told him I’m bi, actually. Told Aziraphale earlier, too.”

Crowley turned to them. “He’s bi, actually.”

Anathema walked over to Newt and hugged him. “I’m proud of you, my love.”

Conversation over dinner, a simple chicken curry with basmati rice, centered around Newt.

“Sometimes I feel like an imposter because I’ve never dated a man or had any type of, um, sexual encounter…well, with anyone other than Anathema. As if it doesn't count because I don't have experience.”

“Oh, hell no.” Crowley took a swig of orange juice straight from the bottle. “Anyone makes you feel like that, send them my way.” He hiccuped into a burp. “I’ll put the fear of God into them. Or the fear of Crowley.” He took another swig.

Newt smiled at the pregnant, orange juice chugging demon. “It gets so muddled. Another reason I haven't spoken up much is because I don't want to listen to people say I wouldn't be faithful to her or insist I must explore. People tend to think that being bisexual means you can't be monogamous. No judgment to anyone else's choices, but I will never be with anyone other than her for the rest of my life and I’m very happy about that. Back when I was just realizing I’m bi, hearing those things made me second guess myself. I still do it all the time. It’s not fun.”

Anathema squeezed his hand. She was over the moon in love with him and so proud.

Crowley gulped down the remainder of the orange juice. “You're bi because you say you're bi, Newt. It’s attraction, not action. It doesn't matter how many people you've fucked or not. You are who you say you are.” He coughed, hiccuped, and burped all at once. Gripping his chest, he breathed, “If you get shit from anyone, I’ll…” he coughed again and grimaced. “Holy fuck don't combine orange juice and curry.” He wheezed.

“Is he going to breathe fire again?” Anathema asked, concern growing in her eyes.

Newt rubbed circles on his back. “Just a little heartburn.”

“Fuck biphobes,” Crowley gasped. He lifted the hem of his shirt, exposing his belly to wipe tears from his eyes.

Aziraphale sighed and handed Crowley a glass of water. “There’s no purity test. It’s what you feel, Newt. Look at me, I’m non-binary. While I like to play with gender now and then, I present mostly as male and use he/him pronouns often. I’m very comfortable with that. When I came out to Crowley, I mentioned that I felt like an imposter - just as you said about yourself, Newt.”

He put his arm around Crowley. “My darling Crowley here reminded me that I do not ever owe anyone a performance of my gender or my sexuality. I don't need to look or act or speak a certain way. The same goes for you and anyone Queer. No one is entitled to demand that you behave or present in a manner to fit into their own little stuffy box. Crowley also reminded me that he will launch someone into the sun if they even attempt such nonsense.”

Crowley nodded emphatically. “Absolutely. I don't have a single bit of tolerance for that shit. Exploring your queerness is simply beautiful and you should be able to do so without noise from anyone else on what they expect you to be. You have all of our love and all of our support forever, Newt.”

Newt wiped his eyes with his sleeves. “Thank you. You all make me so happy.”

Anathema and Aziraphale daintily dabbed at their eyes with a napkin and lacey handkerchief respectively. Crowley, well…

Crowley patted a fist up to his chest and coughed again, releasing a dainty flame. “Sorry. My body takes the heartburn seriously.”

Anathema scooted her chair back. “I knew it.”

After dessert and conversation in the parlour, the night wound down and the couples got ready for bed. While Anathema went to Aziraphale for a last minute knitting question, Crowley poked his head into the guest room to say goodnight to Newt, who was laying out his clothing for the next day.

“Hey you,” Crowley said softly and picked up the forest green jumper Newt had set on the chest of drawers and refolded it.

“Hey. I have more clothes in my overnight bag if you want to fold them,” Newt laughed.

“Ha. Just a little bit of nesting.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to say goodnight and tell you again that I’m proud of you.”

Newt gave the lanky demon, dressed in black silky pyjama bottoms and a black vest, a hug, their long arms snaking around one another. He pressed his nose into Crowley's neck, noting he smelled like the lilac perfume Aziraphale wore today.

“I love you more than you can imagine, Newt. I’m so proud of you and happy to celebrate you.”

“Thank you, again. You, Aziraphale, and Anathema inspire me to be authentic and I am so grateful we found one another.”

Crowley kissed his cheek. “I thank someone everyday for this family. Don't tell anyone. I’m desperately clinging to my evil reputation.” He playfully hissed.

When Crowley began to leave the room, Newt asked a question. “Did you know?”

Crowley raised his brows. “Hmm?”

“Is Gaydar a real thing?” Newt asked with a smile.

Crowley grinned. “I don't know about Gaydar. I have my own Crowley-vision.” He leaned against the doorframe. “There were moments when you and Aziraphale would blather on and on about that Scottish fellow.” He rolled his eyes and groaned dramatically. “But, it was when we were watching the Hobbit. There was a look in your eyes every time Thranduil was on screen. I don't believe in making such assumptions, but I would be lying if I didn't suspect.”

Newt nodded. “Thranduil is hot.”

“Very.” Crowley whipped out his phone, excited to share this moment. “There are these fan edits that I pass by on Instagram…” He showed a music-filled video of clips of the character to Newt. They both sighed.

“What are we deep sighing about?” Aziraphale's voice was a gentle rumble in the corridor. Anathema was standing with him, knitting needles and yarn in hand.

Crowley held up his phone. “You two can drool over that Scottish knob all you want. He also likes elf daddy so we can deep sigh over him together.”

“Elf daddy? Do I want to know?” Anathema asked, amused.

Aziraphale turned to her. “It’s what Crowley calls a Lord of the Rings character who is the father of Legolas. Thranduil is his name and he’s rather delicious.”

Crowley showed the video to Anathema. “I have a thing for slutty blondes.”

Aziraphale clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “Oh, good Lord. Well, let's say goodnight to our dear ones so this slutty blonde can get you to bed and hopefully benefit from the steam currently rising off of you.”

Anathema closed the door after a round of goodnight kisses and hugs. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she held a misty-eyed Newt in her arms, sharing gentle kisses.

“I am so happy for you and so proud of you, my love.”

“That was not at all what I expected. I thought I was just hanging out with Aziraphale these few days to start the process of getting a suit made. Coming out wasn't on my radar at all. I’m glad it happened. I don't know why it even took me this long to tell them.”

She rubbed her hand along his shoulders. “You just needed to do it on your own time. There's nothing wrong with that and they, of all people, understand. How are you feeling now?”

Newt leaned his head on her shoulder. “Free. Seen. Relieved. Bisexual,” he laughed.

“All very good things, my love.” Anathema tipped his chin up to kiss him.

“Never thought I would be sat in my kitchen chair with a demon’s painted pregnant belly in my face while he put makeup on me,” Newt laughed.

Crowley chuckled. “Welcome to your first time with Anthony J. Crowley, makeup artist to homosexuals and witches. I promise to be very gentle.” He feathered his brush over a palette of eyeshadow. “Ready?”

“Ready. I trust you.”

“That's your first mistake,” Crowley cackled, before bending to kiss the top of Newt’s head.

It was Oxford Pride day, a huge event not too far from Tadfield. This would be the first ever Pride parade Newt attended and he was going as his authentic self. His nerves were a mix of elated and anxious.

At this very early morning hour, Newt had already been gifted a Doctor Who T-shirt with a Pride theme by Aziraphale. The deep purple shirt featured a rainbow row of the Tardis. Written in rainbow font were the words, ”In 900 years of time and space, I’ve never met anyone who wasn't important.” Newt had cried when Aziraphale gave it to him. He was now wearing the shirt, as he sat in front of the heavily pregnant Crowley.

Crowley was doing everyone’s makeup that morning, saving the nervous Newt for last. Originally, Newt shyly asked for just a small heart on a cheek in the colours of the bisexual flag. Having seen the look Crowley gave himself and then the rainbow smokey eye for Anathema and the bold non-binary look for Aziraphale, Newt felt a bit more courageous and requested eyeshadow in his bisexual colours. Crowley was more than happy to oblige.

Feeling the build-up of a contraction, Crowley sat in a chair and scooted very close to Newt, spreading his legs wide so he could get even closer to him. He concentrated on creating a smooth blend of pink, purple, and blue eyeshadow over his lids, adding his signature holographic shadow to the inner corners of his eyes, and explained to Newt that “glitter is for joy.” He swiped on a shimmery black eyeliner, subtle without a wing, and added mascara. Next, he would use face paint to add a few hearts in the bisexual flag colours. He sat back to take in his work.

“Holy fuck, Newt. You're a stunner. Very, very hot.” Crowley whistled. “Seriously hot.”

Newt held up a hand mirror and looked at his reflection. Crowley had done a masterful job and he felt somewhat beautiful.

“Wow. You're an absolute artist.”

“How do you feel?”

Newt stared some more. Emotions he was still getting used to were stirring up. “It’s very validating. I think I do look a bit pretty. I guess I can say I feel brave - doing myself up and going out…being out.” He gulped.

Crowley leaned back in his chair and smiled. Newt looked at his bare belly. Aziraphale had hand-painted stars in Crowley's genderfluid colours. While Crowley was proud of his stretch marks, he and Aziraphale thought it would be cute to paint some of them. Crowley’s stretch marks were a mix - some were light pink, others were snake skin, and quite a few were gold. Newt thought it was such a magnificent phenomenon. Most of his stretch marks were painted to make them look like glittery shooting stars. A few were painted rainbow.

Newt watched as Crowley’s belly became noticeably tighter. “That really doesn't hurt at all? Your belly has done that a lot since we’ve been sitting here.”

Crowley took a long drink from his water bottle. “No pain. Annoying sometimes, though, because they get very tight in a very rudely low spot. Goes away quick and just means my body is doing what it's supposed to do. Working out those muscles.” He flexed his bicep. “They happen all day long, but more so if I am very active or if we have sex, which we did this morning. They'll settle in a bit. Drinking a lot of water is helpful, which is why I’m bringing mega bottles with us.” His belly then started rolling and became slightly lopsided with a small protrusion poking near the top.

Newt poked at it. “That's a little foot?”

“Yep. You’ve got a little foot there.” He tickled his hand down the side of his belly. “They're doing their best to stretch a bit.”

Newt was glad for the distraction from his anxiety over the pride parade. His whole body felt like jelly and there was an anticipatory buzzing under his skin. This day was eagerly anticipated - he was originally going to stay low key and support Crowley and Aziraphale, but he slowly decided he would like to dress up a little. The Newt from a few months ago wouldn't have believed he’d attend a large pride parade in make-up as an officially out and proud queer man. While anxious energy drove through his body, he knew that once he got there it would all melt away. Besides, what could be more wonderful than celebrating himself at his first pride with his girlfriend, family, and his unborn nephew or niece?

“Newt! You look gorgeous!” Anathema’s voice rang through the kitchen. “I love that you decided to do your eyes.” She looked to Crowley and complimented his work.

“We are a lucky bunch to have such talent in our midst. Beautiful work, darling. Newt, you are simply smashing.”

Aziraphale and Anathema had just gotten back from the parade grounds. Anathema's birth center would have a stall there in the section with business and community vendors. Her colleagues, Maeve and Miriam, would attend the stall, their table loaded with information about the Agnes Nutter Center for Birth and Reproductive Health and their work with queer fertility and birth. The two had gone to drop off swag, water bottles, and snacks for their table.

After much excited chatter for Newt and for one another, they packed the last of their things into Aziraphale’s yellow Land Rover and waited for Crowley to finish in the lavatory.

“I’ll make sure he didn’t get lost,” Anathema said, heading back inside Jasmine Cottage.

“He’s probably rearranging the sitting room furniture,” surmised Newt.

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “Doubtful. He’d have me do that so he can watch. Most likely, he’s alphabetising your spice rack.”

Newt pushed up his glasses. “He’s already done that.”

“Ah, then he’s probably moved on to colour-coding.”

“Found him!” Anathema yelled happily, walking out of the cottage while holding Crowley’s hand. “He was colour-coordinating the linen closet.”

“In my defense,” Crowley began, “I needed a hand towel.”

“Oh! We should take a picture of the four of us before we head off to the parade,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley pulled his phone out of the back pocket of his impossibly tiny shorts and held it up. The four squeezed in together. “Say yaaaaaaasssssss.”

A few selfies in, a neighbor on a jog stopped and asked if they would like a group photo. Once again, the four squeezed together, arms around backs, and smiled. Crowley immediately sent the photos to their group chat.

In the back seat, Newt wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. He pulled out his phone and looked at the pictures they took so far today. Crowley had taken several of him after his make-up was done. He scrolled to the group photo taken by the neighbor and smiled. This was his family that he loved so much. The photo showcased them all very well.

Crowley stood on one end, hip-cocked, his side pressed into Aziraphale. He wore incredibly short lilac purple shorts and rainbow fishnets with lavender platform Doc Martens. His belly was bare, painted with stars by Aziraphale. He wore rainbow pasties underneath a shimmery mesh rainbow bikini top. Long and loose crimson curls cascaded over one shoulder and down his back. He’d done his own eyes in genderfluid colours and had a trans flag heart painted on one cheek. He wore a snake armband on one arm. A dusting of glitter was scattered throughout what was left of his chest hair, which had thinned throughout his pregnancy. Not pictured were his glasses, which were stored in a tote bag carried by Aziraphale. Crowley said his eyes would seem like a costuming choice at pride. Finally, his neck was adorned with a lavender - matching his shoes - collar, the ring of which was shaped like a heart.

Aziraphale wore lavender linen pants and a matching waistcoat. A holographic black snakeskin - faux, thankyouverymuch - belt was wrapped around his waist, a tribute to his love. In the right light, it flashed a burst of colour. White linen shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbow and he wore a bowtie in a non-binary tartan. The two biggest aspects of his outfit were his shoes and the back of his waistcoat. The latter was not your usual solid colour satinback. Rather, it was made of a non-binary flag tartan, matching that of his bowtie. It had been a gift from Crowley. Also a gift from Crowley were the most out-of-character, yet fitting, shoes - yellow Doc Martens. Aziraphale quickly fell in love with them. On the peak lapels of his waistcoat were a non-binary pin, a demi-sexual pin, and a pride flag pin. A black and white tote bag with an A.Z. Fell & Co. logo on it waited on the ground between him and Anathema.

Anathema, who Crowley lovingly termed as their “token straight,” beamed in between Aziraphale and Newt. She wore a long, teal blue maxi skirt and rainbow Vans with rainbow fishnet to match Crowley. Tucked into the skirt was a black t-shirt with large rainbow-coloured block letters advertising “Free Auntie Hugs” and a large rainbow heart. Her long hair had been done in Dutch braids with rainbow ribbon woven through by Aziraphale. Crowley had given her large, rainbow-studded hoop earrings, which sparkled in the picture.

Then there was Newt, standing tall and proud on the end in his Doctor Who pride shirt and his make up, his face lifted by a giant and genuine smile. While he may have been the least flashy of the group, his pride was evident in his eyes and the way he was standing. The quiet, scared, insecure Newt, who wanted desperately to be loved and accepted by peers, was still there in his heart, comforted by this new part of his life. Going to this parade was a big step - a step full of his own courage and tenacity, supported by his parents and the loving family at his side.

They woke a sleeping Crowley up when they arrived. He slithered out of the car and announced he had something gay for everyone, holding up a second A.Z. Fell & Co. tote bag, this one in grey. “You each get an obnoxiously large homosexual fan. Clack-clack. I ordered these a few weeks ago.”

He handed the first to Aziraphale. It was a light demisexual flag background with the words, “Pride, Not Prejudice” done in bold lettering next to a line drawing of Jane Austen. Anathema received a fan with a glittery rainbow background. Crowley joked he almost had “token straight” printed on it, but opted instead for the name and logo of her birth center. Newt was given a fan with the bisexual flag and a print of three Daleks, the words, “Exterminate Hate” written in bold black letters. Crowley’s own fan was a muted rainbow snakeskin print with the word “Angel” in bright white letters.

It took a solid five minutes for everyone to stop snapping their fans open over and over. Newt and Crowley then had to be jokingly separated when they began to pretend they were fighting with light sabers. Sillies wiggled out for the moment, they made their way into the crowd just in time for the start of the parade.

Due to Crowley’s condition, they opted to stick to an area close to the parade end and near the community and business vendor stalls. Newt was awestruck by the sheer amount of people and the overwhelm of what he was realizing was pure, queer joy. Whatever remaining anxieties had made it to the parade were quickly fading away into a rainbow cloud. He spun around slowly and took note of people just like him, wearing bisexual flags as capes and bisexual colour sunglasses and make-up. He even, within two minutes of planting himself in their spot to watch Brazilian drummers go by, received a fistbump from a fellow dressed head to toe in the colours of the bisexual flag.

Anathema squeezed his hand and stretched up for a long and passionate kiss. “I’m so proud of you. I know I keep saying it over and over, but I am. It makes me so happy to see you so comfortable here and so…out and brave. You’re the sweetest soul and I am so lucky you’re mine forever.” She kissed him again and again.

“Fuck, I’m already going to cry.” Crowley’s voice snuck up behind them. “How am I supposed to make out with my husband if I’m crying?”

“That’s never stopped you before, my dearest,” Aziraphale chuckled.

“True,” Crowley mumbled into a kiss.

Crowley eventually signaled he was getting tired and a bit overwhelmed after they watched a drag performance on the main stage, which they all enjoyed and laughed through. He gave Newt and Anathema the option to split for a little while so they didn’t have to “get bogged down by a slow, yet still slinky, pregnant demon.” He and Anathema debated on it, but decided to remain with the newlyweds and head over to the area with all the vendor stalls. Anathema wanted to check on her midwife colleagues at their booth and Crowley would take a rest there.

Walking through the crowds to get to the stalls, Crowley stopped dead. Newt worried for a moment. His demon friend had still managed a slinky walk despite the heaviness of his nine months pregnant belly, but he was obviously slower and became out of breath easily. He was about to ask if Crowley needed anything, though Aziraphale seemed nonplussed.

“Oi!” Crowley shouted. “Holy fuck! Newt! Look!” He fanned his face and dabbed at his eyes. “I’m going to cry. They are the cutest couple here.” He pointed to a couple walking through the crowd.

“She looks like she went to Prowler in Soho and bought up everything to wear today. Oh, Newt, I’m in love with her.” Crowley said, pulling a handkerchief from the inner pocket of Aziraphale's waistcoat.

There, about 20 metres away, stood his parents, holding hands and looking around the table of one of the stalls. Terry and Doris Pulsifer were as decked out in pride gear as one could be. His father wore a “Free Dad Hugs” shirt and his mum wore a matching “Free Mum Hugs.” Both were in denim shorts with rainbow-striped crew socks pulled up their calves and rainbow braces. They held several pride flags, including a bisexual one, wore many rainbow necklaces, bracelets, and Mr. Pulsifer wore a headband with two springs topped with rainbows.

Newt had told them he was going to the parade and they told him to have a lot of fun, wear plenty of sunblock, and to drink a lot of water. They never gave any indication that they would attend, but here they were. He pulled out his phone to call one of them, although he knew his mum had both phones in her purse and probably wouldn’t hear them.

“I’ll get their attention. I stand out a little bit,” Crowley said with all the confidence of an over six foot tall, red-headed, glittery, pregnant demon. He grabbed Aziraphale’s fan and held it up in the air in one hand, his own fan in the other. He snapped them open and shut several times, quite loudly. The clack-clack echoed through the air over the throngs of people, causing Newt’s parents to look up in a startle in their direction.

Mum and Dad Pulsifer quickly found their way to the group and embraced their son, leaving Crowley, Aziraphale, and Anathema with happy tears. Now up close, they could see that Doris also had rainbow earrings and stick-on heart gems around her eyes. Terry had stick-on gems on his ears and a rainbow heart painted on his forearm.

Crowley and Aziraphale had met the Pulsifers on a few occasions and found them to be warm and loving. Both were touched by their enthusiastic show of support for Newt. They indulged in the offer of free mum and dad hugs before leaving Newt and Anathema to wander around with the parents for a short time while Crowley took a lavatory break.

As the afternoon wore on, Crowley and Anathema manned the birth center’s booth, relieving Maeve and Miriam for a bit, while Aziraphale walked around with the Pulsifers. Crowley fanned himself and drank a lot of water. He had received a lot of attention so far during the day with many congratulations and compliments on his painted belly. It was all welcomed albeit somewhat overstimulating as the day wore on. He was happy to sit in this stall and help Anathema answer questions about her fertility and birth services.

Before leaving, Crowley took a walk around the grounds hand-in-hand with Newt. They stopped at many tables, picking up swag and snacks.

“How are you feeling after all of this today? You’ve looked so peaceful and joyful.”

“It’ll take me a week to come down from this. I’ve never really been high, but I imagine this must be what it feels like.”

Crowley laughed. “I assure you, this feels better. You still get a hangover from all the noise and excitement, though, so be sure to take care of yourself. I’m glad you had a lot of fun and I’m more than a bit chuffed that you’re looking so gorgeous in that make-up.”

“I feel like I belong. This is a large scale version of the acceptance I feel from you and Aziraphale, our family, and the whole Tadfield crew. It’s such an incredible feeling. Very healing, too. I’ve never felt so at home in such a large crowd. Usually, I’m worried about being poked fun of, but today it was all people who welcomed me and accepted me. Lonely Newt from the past has a bit more confidence and pride today.”

Crowley hugged and kissed him. “You deserve all of those good feelings. You belong. You always have.” He hugged him again. “I love my bisexual brother.”

Newt sighed happily and leaned into the hug. “I love my overwhelmingly queer sister.”

When they pulled apart, he rested his palm on the top of Crowley's belly, over a spot where he felt movement during their hug. A little wiggle rolled under his hand.

“Part of what made me feel much more confident today was this little one. They’re an inspiration for me. I’ve watched you and Aziraphale grow and change just like Anathema and myself have done. I have support from you three and my parents. Then there is this tiny niece or nephew - or whoever they choose to be - of mine. I want them to know their uncle as someone who is true to himself, no masks - unless we're playing Spiderman and Iron Man. Each one of you inspires me more than I can articulate and I hope I can be something like that to Tartan - their fun, nerdy uncle, who is also strong and inspiring.”

Crowley blinked rapidly and pulled at Newt’s sleeve, using it to dab under his eyes. “Sorry, I’m barely wearing anything and I haven’t got a handkerchief.”

He sniffed. “Newt, I’m looking forward to seeing you and Tartan together. You’ll definitely be an inspiration and they'll learn so much from you. Except how to pick out a good car, but no one’s perfect,” he laughed.

In bed that night, with their makeup washed off and their nude bodies pressed together, Newt and Anathema scrolled through photos of the day. Every photo was awash in colourful pride and love and it was hard to choose any favourites.

Newt decided to send some off to be printed so they could frame them and keep them around the house. Those awaiting printing included the photo of the four of them before they left for Pride, a sweet scene of him and his parents when they found one another - his mum and dad's faces beaming with pride in him and his own eyes full of happy tears. Aziraphale had taken an intimate shot of Newt and Anathema just as they were about to kiss, their eyes locked with adoration evident in them. As for Aziraphale, Crowley took a picture of him and Newt standing side by side from the back, their arms wrapped around each other and Newt's head leaning down towards Aziraphale's as they watched a drag performance. Aziraphale's waistcoat back was vibrant in its non-binary colors and Newt had a small bisexual flag tucked in his back pocket. Finally, there was a lovely photo of him and Crowley as they had stopped to talk amongst the vendor stalls. This photo was captured by his mum and showed Newt and Crowley holding their hands on the demon’s belly, feeling the baby kick, the two of them looking at one another with soft smiles and softer eyes.

“Those will be ready for pickup first thing tomorrow,” he said to Anathema while placing his phone on the night table. He turned to face her and smoothed his fingers over her hair, letting them follow a path down her side to her hip, where his hand rested on her bare skin. The two giggled over the muffled sounds coming from the guest room before speaking more seriously to one another.

“Thank you for being exactly who you are, Nath, and for loving me exactly as I am.” His lips left a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“You are my forever and I am always so proud of you.” She returned his kiss, letting it grow in passion until they contributed their own muffled sounds to the nighttime air in Jasmine Cottage.

Jasmine Cottage stood proud among its gardens and the neighborhood, watching over a family that filled it with love, happiness, and unconditional acceptance. Once a home and witness to ancestors who feuded to their demise, its walls were now changed by the loving power of two descendants and their friends-turned-family. The sky above twinkled, its starlight decorated by glittering streaks from meteorites that celebrated the proud bonds of friendship and family that had become the cottage's destiny.