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Aziraphale, formerly known as the Angel of the Eastern Gate, currently found himself in a barn in Bethlehem. The greatest of God’s miracles (or so he’d been told) was lying in a manger before him, wearing a nappy made of some borrowed cloth, looking up at Aziraphale expectantly. Aziraphale, for his part, was attempting to entertain the baby. He’d never spent much time around human babies (or any babies, really) and had very little idea what to do. He figured, however, that even though the infant in front of him was the holiest, most divine being ever to grace the crust of the earth, He was also fully human. So it should have been easy to entertain Him.
Or so he thought. The baby was proving to be a tough audience, impervious to his attempts to amuse Him. He’d tried telling stories, singing, telling (clean) jokes, and was getting a little desperate.
Aziraphale covered his eyes, then uncovered them with a surprised look and a ‘peekaboo!’
The Christ Child’s lower lip began to wobble.
“Drat,” Aziraphale said. “I was convinced babies liked peekaboo. What do babies like, then? Oh! I’ve got it!” He removed a coin from the pocket of his robes and showed it to the baby Jesus. “Keep your eye on the coin, little one. I’m going to perform magic!”
He waved the coin around, making a big production out of it, then blew on his hand and revealed that it had disappeared.
“Babies don’t have object permanence, angel,” came a drawling voice from nearby. “Not at this age, anyway. S’far as He’s concerned, coins do that all the time.”
Aziraphale whirled around to find Crawly the Demon striding into the barn, smirking at him.
“Oh,” he said, his voice tinged with disdain he didn’t actually feel - but felt he should feel. “It’s you.”
“Hiya, angel,” Crawly said, unperturbed. He sauntered towards the manger, and Aziraphale held his hands up.
“Halt! Stop right there!”
Crawly gave him a curious look. “Why should I do that?”
“I’m trying to keep Him happy and quiet. If He sees a demon, He’s likely to cry and wake His mother.”
“Well, let’s just see about that,” Crawly said, ignoring Aziraphale’s admonition, sauntering the rest of the way over. Aziraphale stepped out of the way without thinking much about it, but he did watch the demon carefully as he peered into the manger. “Doesn’t look like any sort of King of Kings, does He?”
“Well, no king does, really. Not at this stage.”
Crawly was still peering at Him. “I thought maybe He’d, I dunno. Sparkle or something.”
Aziraphale tutted. “Now really, dear.”
Crawly looked up at him. “You’re trying to keep Him quiet, then, so Mary and Stepdad of the Millennium can rest?”
“I don’t think there’s any call for snark, Crawly.”
“There’s always call for snark, angel,” Crawly grinned. Then, much to Aziraphale’s shock, he started speaking to the baby Jesus in a babyish voice. “Hello! Hello, there! Aren’t you a tyke, hmm?” he asked, reaching down to wiggle the Messiah’s toes. “Lookit your little toesiewoesies!”
“I don’t think they’re called toesiewoesies, strictly speaking.” The demon ignored him, and Aziraphale tilted his head to the side. "Why is he quiet for you? And actually smiling. I'm an angel!"
That inspired Crawly to look him up and down. “You don’t strike me as the good-with-kids type,” he offered.
“And I suppose you think you are?”
The baby cooed, then giggled when Crawly wiggled his fingers at Him.
“He seems to think so, anyway,” the demon replied, smugly.
Aziraphale huffed. “I don’t see why you would be.”
“Trust me, people treat you nicer if you’re good to their kids. What have you tried to calm Him?”
“Well,” Aziraphale said, sensing a chance to show off. “I began to sing Him a lullaby, but -”
“Let me guess: a buttload of other angels started singing in a big, heavenly chorus and you had to stop.”
Sheepishly, he admitted, “Um, yes. That’s correct.”
“Well, what else did you try?”
“I was holding Him for a while, bouncing Him and talking to Him, but He didn’t like that. So I attempted to tell Him a story, but He was much too wriggly. I suppose He must have been taking movement lessons from you.”
Crawly just grinned at him. “Not me, mate. I only just met Him a minute ago. Didn’t I?” he asked the baby, wiggling his toes. “Didn’t I just meet you? Goochie-goochie!”
This, Aziraphale felt, was a moment to be a wee bit caustic. “Figured it’d be best not to meet Him as the Serpent of Eden?”
The demon turned to address him, smiling. “See, there you go, getting the hang of the snark thing. Proud of you, angel.”
Aziraphale was chuffed with the praise for just a moment before he realized he absolutely should not be, and huffed.
Crawly seemed amused. “Nah, it’s not that,” he said, facing the baby and smiling, but speaking to Aziraphale. “S’just that I don’t go around as the snake much these days.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “Not a big fan of squirming at people’s feet, me.”
“Perhaps you should consider changing your name. If you no longer identify with one name, it’s entirely appropriate to change it to something that suits you.”
“Food for thought,” Crawly said, then grinned smugly as he pointed to Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Speaking of food, you’ve got a little something on your pristine white robes there, angel.”
Aziraphale turned his head, looking for whatever Crawly was talking about, only to realize there was a spit-up stain on his shoulder. “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” he groused. “These are fresh robes!”
“A little spit up never hurt anyone.”
“He got it in my gold embroidery!”
Crawly muttered something about ‘frou-frou angels’, but it sounded strangely fond. Aziraphale didn’t get to assess it before Crawly snapped and he felt warmth on his shoulder. When he turned his head, there was no stain.
“I won’t be thanking you for that,” he said, most snippily.
“You’re welcome anyway,” Crawly retorted, back to peering at the baby, who was giggling when Crawly tickled Him lightly. “He’s awfully cute.”
“He is, yes.”
“But you know, I thought He’d be… gooier.”
“Why would He be gooey?”
Another curious look. “Haven’t you ever seen a human birth?”
“Of course I haven’t!” Aziraphale asserted, almost affronted. “At least, not a real one. The only birth I ever saw was -”
“A fuckery. With Job and the geckos. Yeah, I remember.”
“Yes. As I remember, you claimed to be a midwife.”
Crawly was back to looking at the baby, although, again, he addressed Aziraphale. “Enh, it was a hobby for a while. But yeah, there’s generally lots of goo. Kinda gross, really, human childbirth. This one, though… He doesn’t look the way most newborns look.”
“Which is, since you’re so studied on the subject?” Aziraphale challenged.
“Fresher than this. More wrinkled and weird looking. Newborn humans, paradoxically, tend to look like little old people. Or potatoes.” Crawly was back to baby talking, and now was tickling the baby’s side with two long fingers. “You’re a couple months old, aren’t ya? Cutie pie.”
“I just witnessed his birth!”
He got a raised brow and a knowing, “Did you now?”
Meekly, Aziraphale admitted, “Well, alright. I got here a teensy bit late. Gabriel didn’t tell me I was needed until the last minute. He thinks it incentivizes me or something.”
“Tosser,” Crawly scoffed, then tickled the baby again. “Gabriel is a big fat tosser, isn’t he? With bad hair. Yes he is. Yes he is!”
“Now, really,” Aziraphale said, veering away from the tempting territory of making fun of Gabriel and back towards the subject they’d been on. “The baby has be newly born. We’re here in a barn, aren't we?”
“Must be one of those Hollywood births, then.”
Aziraphale’s head tilted to the side. “What’s a Hollywood birth?”
“Nevermind,” Crawly said, then addressed the baby. “You’re not going to Hollywood, are you? No, no. Not this baby. Not this sweetie pea baby!”
“I suppose you found us using the Star of Bethlehem?” Aziraphale said, pompous.
That caught Crawly’s attention. “Are you the one that put that thing in the air?”
“No, I do believe that was Michael.”
He scoffed. “Figures.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s an abomination,” Crawly complained.
“It’s lovely!”
“It’s not! Look, angel, I’ve made more than my share of heavenly bodies. The person that made this one thinks highly of their own importance.”
“Well, I can’t deny that, but I don’t see how you -”
“It’s too bright. Takes up too much of the sky.”
“It was supposed to be bright, Crawly. So it could guide the three kings.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t supposed to blind people. That’s what the sun is for. A little humility, if you please.” Aziraphale didn’t know how to answer that, but Crawly dismissed him and went back to the baby. “Look at you, with these chubby little legs, and your round, poochy belly. I think that belly needs some bubbles blown on it! Yes it does!”
"Crawly, you're not allowed to eat Him."
"I'm not gonna eat Him, angel. But I am going to blow bubbles on His belly."
Aziraphale had never been so shocked in his life as he was when Crawly, the demon, bent down and blew raspberries on the infant Messiah’s belly. He was even more shocked when the infant Messiah laughed loudly in that way babies had, clutching fistfuls of Crawly’s red hair.
"Oh, now really. Why is he laughing when you're chewing on Him?" Aziraphale groused.
Crawly turned towards him, although he was still bent over, and gave Aziraphale a wicked look. "Jealous, angel? Need me to chew on your belly?"
“Most decidedly not. That would be beneath the station -”
“Hey, mister,” came a voice from the entrance to the barn. Aziraphale and Crawly both looked up to see a young man standing there with a drum strapped around his neck. He raised his drumsticks in the air and said, “You guys wanna hear a song?”
“Buzz off, kid. The holy infant is tenderizing,” Crawly said.
“Crawly,” Aziraphale said testily, while the kid buzzed off. “I just told you that you are not allowed to eat the Messiah.”
“Not even if He’s tender and mild?”
“I’m quite sure I don’t understand the question, but I’m going to have to say no.”
“Pity,” Crawly said, just before he completely ignored Aziraphale and bent back down to nibble the baby’s toes, making an exaggerated ‘omnomnom’ sound. The baby giggled, then Crawly pretended to smell something bad. “Who’s got stinky feet? Has Jesus got stinky feet? He does! He does! Shoo-wee!”
The baby was belly-laughing, and Aziraphale was warmed to the core - although he reminded himself quickly that he was not supposed to be feeling anything even remotely warm towards a demon.
"Oh, I like this one already. You're going to have to be on your toes with Him, I can tell,” Crawly said, sounding chuffed. “He’s gonna cause all sorts of bedlam. Aren’t you, you wee tyke?”
“He’s the Prince of Peace!” Aziraphale insisted.
“That’s not the way I’ve heard it from downstairs. This one here heralds the shooting off of a third major religion.”
“There are two already?”
“Yeah, where have you been?”
"Libraries, mostly."
“Why in Satan’s name would you -”
“You invoke the name of the Dark One in front of the Messiah?”
Jesus had caught hold of one of His feet and was studiously trying to nibble His own toes the way Crawly had. “He doesn’t seem to mind. Do you? Do you, little one?” He wiggled his fingers at the baby and the baby released His foot, anticipating a new game. Crawly reached down to tickle Him, smiling, which was incongruous with, “People are going to commit atrocities in His name.”
“I don’t -”
“You know they’re going to. Not only is it inevitable, it’s part of the Great Plan,” he said, moving his free hand in a mocking arch.
“What the devil do you know about The Great Plan?”
“More than you think. And this one here is gonna start fifty wars in the next thousand years. Him and His widdle toesiewoesies! Yes He is!” Crawly said, then blew bubbles on the laughing baby’s belly again.
Aziraphale didn’t acknowledge how cute the scene was. “But people will also feed the poor, be charitable -“
“Come on, angel,” Crawly said, as if Aziraphale was being obtuse. “These are humans. They’re gonna cock it all up.”
“He’s the- He’s the Son of God!” Aziraphale insisted.
“He sure is,” Crawly acknowledged. “And the way I hear it, He’s gonna do everything right. Like I said, it’ll be the humans that cock it all up. The way they always do.”
"Crawly. Would you please stop mocking the Messiah?"
"I'm not mocking the Messiah, I'm telling Him - and you - what's going to happen!” He bent down and scooped up the baby. “And also nibbling Hims chubby widdle neck! Omnomnom!”
"Also please stop eating the Messiah."
Neither of them heard him. Crawly was making growly, bitey noises, and Jesus was shrieking laughter.
“If you don’t mind…”
"Do you or do you not want to keep Him quiet so Mary can sleep?"
Aziraphale thought for a moment, and snapped, "Just give Him to me, you foul fiend."
Crawly did so, and the baby immediately started squalling.
“Oh, that is just not fair,” Aziraphale complained, handing the wailing baby back to a smirking Crawly. Jesus quieted instantly, nuzzling into Crawly.
“It’s only because you’re not eating His neck. That’s the key.”
Aziraphale thought about his next question a moment before asking it. “You seem to know about this part of The Plan…”
“What, where the Almighty sends Her only Son to be murdered?”
“Ah, er, yes. That one.”
“Yeah. I’m aware of it,” Crawly said in a tone that indicated he had Opinions. “But downstairs is in favor of it happening. His sacrifice will set into motion thousands of years of fights, wars, and other assorted misery.”
“Then what’s it all for?” Aziraphale asked, his voice full of despair.
Crawly was cradling the baby now, swaying Him side to side soothingly. “If you stay quiet enough, angel, Mary might not be the only one who gets some sleep.”
Aziraphale lowered the volume of his voice, but his tone was still urgent. “What’s it all for?” he demanded again - softly.
Crawly’s answer was equally soft. “What’d’ya mean?”
“I mean that this sweet, innocent baby is going to be… He’s going to be…”
He was still swaying the baby gently. “He’s going to be executed, yeah. In the worst way history ever devised.”
“Right, yes,” Aziraphale agreed, squirming a little internally. “But He’s not going to deserve it.”
“No, He won’t. Although, to be fair, nobody deserves to die like that.”
“All He’s going to do His entire short life is teach peace and love.”
“Yeah. Downstairs isn’t chuffed about that part, but sees it as a necessary good. Kind of like a necessary evil -”
“I understand what it is,” Aziraphale snapped. “I just don’t - I just don’t understand. The birth of this baby was meant to herald peace and good tidings. He was meant to save the world! And now -”
“Now it all looks kinda bleak, doesn’t it? The future that was supposed to be glorious feels ominous and scary. Kinda makes you wonder what kind of entity would sacrifice their only child in such a way.”
Aziraphale’s eyes were etched with worry as he looked at the tiny baby who was just going to sleep in Crawly’s arms. While he watched, the baby suckled at nothing.
“It seems unfair.”
“It is,” Crawly agreed. “Tremendously.”
“How are we meant not to despair?” he demanded of Crawly.
Crawly was walking over to a big pile of straw in the corner. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“If it’s all going to be so terrible, if we’re entering these dark, difficult times, how are we meant not to give up hope? How are we supposed to not sink into disheartenment and wretchedness?”
“I’m not sure I have the answer to that,” Crawly said, juggling the baby a little so he could snap his fingers. The hay all arranged itself into something that looked very much like a chaise. “It’d be pretty easy to do, wouldn’t it? I think, though, that what we need to do is look for small moments. Little glimmers.”
“Glimmers like what?”
“I don’t know. Whatever makes you happy. Reading a parchment or whatever you like.” He gave Aziraphale a wicked grin. “Diving into a plate of ribs.”
“Oh, why do I even bother with you?” Aziraphale complained.
“Because I’m right, and you know it. The bad times are coming, and there’s nothing we can do to stop them from coming. The future is gonna happen, whether we like it or not. Some people are gonna fight against it, and that’s great. Laudable. I salute them. That’s their way of not giving into despair - they rage against the dying of the light, so to speak. Full of piss and vinegar and righteous fury. I genuinely love it, just don’t tell Beezlebub I said that. I’d hate to call an angel a liar.”
“But what about those of us who can’t fight back, for whatever reason? What about the people who are in the path of the… bad things? The weak, the sick, the poor, the afflicted? How do they keep heart?”
Crawly was making himself comfortable on the straw-chaise, adjusting the baby so He was in the middle of his chest. “Those are the most powerful people, when you think about it. The people who have the most to lose, the people who are the most afraid… when those people, who are the most vulnerable, seek out glimmers of hope - or create them - they’re fighting back in a completely different but equally powerful way. Think about it, angel. Think about how much guts it takes to find joy during times of despair.”
Aziraphale pondered that while Crawly got comfortable. “Do you really think so?”
“Yup. I do. You know, people talk about hope like it’s this frail, wispy thing. It’s not, though. Hope is incredibly powerful. Hope inspires action. It takes a lot of courage and determination to keep fighting because you have hope. Love to see it, personally.”
“In that case, what are you going to do? What are your glimmers going to be?”
“Not real sure at the moment,” Crawly admitted, crossing his ankles and rhythmically, gently patting the Christ Child’s rump. “Probably gonna do some wicked deeds, sow some discord, the uszhe.”
“But -”
“Shhh,” Crawly said, and Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he was speaking to him or the baby. “M’having myself a little glimmer. D’ya mind keeping watch and making sure that kid with the drum doesn’t come back?”
With that, Crawly leaned his head back against the post, closed his eyes, and seemed to drift off with the Christ Child on his chest and a tiny smile on his face.
Aziraphale dutifully stood guard while the two of them slept, underneath the brilliant (and admittedly gaudy) star of Bethehem, contemplating the topic of hope.